It all started with the phone ringing. I saw that it was Mom calling and I picked it up right away. You know you are in trouble when the conversation starts out like this.

"Hi honey," Mom said, "I have a huge favor to ask you. Now you can say no and it will be OK, but I could really use your help."

"Mom, you know that I'll do anything that I can for you," I replied with trepidation.

"Well, it's my cats," Mom said, letting the pause come to term.

"What about the cats?" I replied as expected.

"Well, Hazel got out and picked up some fleas."

"And this concerns me how?" I asked.

"I've tried the pill and the stuff behind their ears, but they both have too many fleas. I think they need a bath with the strong stuff from the vet to kill all of the fleas and give them a clean start," she blurted out in a rush. "I don't want to take them to the vets or the groomers because I can't trust them to do a thorough job."

"Mom! You know I hate cats! And now you want me to bathe them? If I clean a cat, it's in preparation for fricasseeing!" I protested.

"Yes, I know," she blithely tossed aside my objection, "But I really need your help."

And there it was. The call that no good son can ignore. I hate it when she pulls that out! "I'll come over tomorrow after work," I groaned good-naturedly.

Perhaps I should tell you a little about my Mom and I. They almost threw her out of high school for getting married in the late 50's. When she got pregnant with me a year later, they did toss her out. Maybe it's because she is only 16 years older than I am, or maybe it's because I'm the oldest of five kids, but for whatever reason, we have always had an extraordinarily close relationship.

She and my Dad divorced when I was 12 and he wasn't around much, so that left Mom and I to raise the rest of the brood since she never remarried. Times were tough and quite often there wasn't any extra money, but we managed to keep food on the table and roof over our heads. At first I contributed by watching the younger kids while Mom worked, but by the time I was fourteen, I had a job and was contributing to the grocery bill.

I was a curious mixture as a kid. I was very responsible when it came to helping out with chores and expenses, but I was a hell-raiser in any spare time that I had. I was doing a man's job so I thought that I deserved a man's privileges. In my young mind that meant that I got to drink and smoke just like all of the adults that I knew. So while my Mom was grateful for my help, she was always worried that something was going to happen to me. But she stuck by me, sometimes not approving of my behavior, but always loving me.

I didn't clean up my act until my late 30's and I've been using the ten years since to make it up to my Mom for all the worries that I caused her. So that's why when Mom calls, I come. Even if it's to wash her freakin' cats.

I walked into Mom's house the next day after work and she was dressed for war. Even though it was about 80 degrees out, Mom was dressed in Levi's and a long sleeve sweat shirt. Mom's about 5' 6" tall and she's put on a little weight, but not bad for being a little over 60. She has always exercised and taken pretty good care of herself. Regular trips to the beauty parlor maintain her shoulder-length 'natural' blonde hair and she always has a twinkle in her hazel eyes. After we chatted for a bit, Mom said, "Well, I guess we should get started. Let's do the black cat first since he is the most skittish. If we do Hazel first, he will freak out and we will never find him. Also, he's got longer hair and is going to be more difficult to do."

"Okay," I agreed, "Makes sense to me."

I snickered as Mom donned her leather gardening gloves and carefully tucked the sleeves of her sweatshirt into the cuffs of the gloves. "What do you think that we are going to be doing? Wrestling panthers?" I teased her.

"I don't want to get scratched and I want to try to keep the soap off of my skin," she explained, "Are you sure you don't want to cover up more?"

"Nahhh," I said nonchalantly, "I'll be fine. If they get too wild, I'll just snap their little necks."

"Yeah, right," Mom smiled, "You're a bigger softy than me when it comes to animals."

"Yeah, whatever," I groused, "Let's get this show on the road. Are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," she replied.

Mom started the water running in the kitchen sink while I started sweet-talkin' the black cat. I picked him up and carried his unsuspecting self to the sink. He settled down in the sink better than I expected. I had my hands around his neck and my arms bracketing his body so that he couldn't move much and couldn't get a claw on me without really trying. I was just thinking that this was going to be pretty easy when Mom dumped the first cup of water on him.

Holy smokes! That cat was a lot stronger than I thought as he jumped to his feet and tried to get away. Luckily he couldn't get much of a purchase on the stainless steel sink, so he just kind of ran in place while Mom kept dousing him with water; after a bit, he settled down to where he was just shivering while Mom worked the water into his coat. It took a lot more water than I thought it would to soak all that hair. Once she had him thoroughly wet and she started applying the flea soap to him, the fun really began.

Every time that she reached for more soap, the cat shook like wet animals do. He stood still while she applied the soap, but gave us a bath every time I changed his position or she reached for more soap. By the time the cat was covered with flea soap, so were we! And we still had to marinate the cat for another ten minutes before we could rinse it off.

I was holding the cat and Mom was leaning on the counter commiserating with me about how wet we both were. I couldn't see myself real well, but Mom's whole front was soaked. Her sweatshirt was clinging to her breasts, making it obvious that she was braless. Her nipples were poking up nicely and I couldn't help but notice that even at her age, she didn't suffer from much sag. Her Levi's were soaked to about mid-thigh and the picture presented made it tough to remember that it was my Mom.

All of a sudden Mom got a funny look on her face and exclaimed, "I was afraid of that!"

"What?" I asked.

"The flea soap is making me itch. I need to get out of these clothes before it gets worse."

"Alright," I answered, "Me and the cat will hang out while you change. Hurry back! I know you wouldn't want to miss the grand finale!"

The cat and I were just hangin' out waiting on the timer and Mom when I realized that I was beginning to itch too.

Mom came back in the kitchen saying, "We have to hurry up and finish so that I can take a proper shower and get all of this stuff off of me or I'm going to get a nasty rash."

I was about to agree with her when she came into view. "Mom!" I yelled as soon as I saw her, "What the hell are you doing?" She was wearing a pair of cotton panties and that was it! I couldn't help but notice that she had been sunbathing topless this summer. She had a little pooch to her belly and her hips were a little wide, but her 34bish breasts were indeed remarkably sag free for a woman of her age.

I took all that in, in about a nanosecond as she answered me, "Oh, hush! I know that you used to sneak peeks at me when you were a kid. So it's not as if you haven't seen them before. I can't have any cloth hold that soap against me or I really will get a nasty rash, so deal with it!"

"Ummmm, okay," I replied while trying not to stare at my mother's boobs, "but we have another problem."

"What's that?" Mom asked.

"That soap is affecting my skin the same way," I said.

"Well, you better get out of those clothes then," Mom replied.

"But I don't have any other clothes here!" I protested.

"I'm standing here almost in my birthday suit! Strip to your skivvies and we'll wash your clothes when we're done with the cats," Mom answered.

"Well, alright," I complained, "But I'm wearing tighty-whiteys today."

"What does that have to do with it?" Mom asked.

"Well," I tried to joke a little, "If my little head reacts like he usually does when there is a nekkid woman around, it's gonna be kind of obvious."

Mom laughed. "Well, it's not like I haven't seen one of those before either and I'm pretty sure that they haven't changed in the last 30 years. So hurry up, that cat needs rinsed off."

"Here," I told Mom, "Hold the cat while I get out of these clothes."

Mom walked over and couldn't help rubbing up against me as we transferred control of the cat from me to her. "You got him?" I asked.

"I got him, but hurry. There are washcloths in the bathroom that you can use to wipe the soap off you so that it won't get any worse."

I went to the bathroom and stripped to my shorts. I soaked a couple of washcloths in warm water and wiped myself down as well as I could. I was about done when I heard a shout from the kitchen.

"Brian!" Mom shouted with a touch of panic, "Hurry up! He's getting away!

I ran into the kitchen and I saw that Mom barely had hold of the cat. He was stretched over the divider in the sink and she had his neck in one hand and one hind leg in the other. I ran up behind Mom, reached around her and grabbed the cat by the neck. Slowly we maneuvered him back into the sink and got him settled down.

"Okay," I said, "I got him now. You go ahead and rinse him off."

Mom gingerly let go of the cat, but kept her hands close in case he started to make a move for freedom, but he just sat there. We both tensed as she slowly filled a cup with warm water and poured it on him, but he just meowed, twitched and waited for the next one. We relaxed a little and Mom continued rinsing the cat to the constant accompaniment of his meows.

As we relaxed I couldn't help noticing that I had the perfect view of my Mom's breasts. My arms were wrapped around her from behind, so I was looking over her shoulder as I held the cat still. Her breasts were swaying back as she kneaded the water into her cat. Occasionally, they would flatten out on the sink or my arms when she leaned forward to rinse the cat's belly and feet. She was concentrating on the cat so I didn't have to worry about getting caught gawking.

Unfortunately, that's not the only way that I could get caught. Every time that Mom's breasts swayed, her rear-end wiggled. And it wiggled right on my crotch. In no time at all I was rock hard and embarrassed as hell. My cock had poked out through the leg-hole of my underwear and snuggled up in the crack of her ass. I knew that Mom had to be able to feel my cock pressing against her back, but she just kept rinsing her cat as if nothing in the world was odd at all.

I tried to step back a little, but she just followed me back and kept rubbing her behind on my cock. It was kind of an awkward position for me, standing so far back and stretching for Mom's cat, so I stepped back forward, pushing Mom into the sink. I'd swear that I heard a little moan but I couldn't be sure over the noise of the running water and the meowing.

"Ahem," I croaked kind of nervously.

"Yes, dear?" Mom answered kind of dreamily.

"Ummmmm, do you think that you could stop shakin' your ass so much? Don'tcha think that this is a little embarrassing?"

"Oh, I don't think that there is anything little about it at all," she chuckled as she seemed to come out of her reverie. She gave my cock an extra-firm grind and asked coyly, "Doesn't that feel good to you?"

"Of course it does!" I protested, "That should be obvious! But do you really think that we should be doing this?"

"Doing what?" she said with a snicker, "Washing my pussy?"

"Mom!" I groaned, "You know exactly what I am talking about. Bad puns won't make it any better."

She looked over her shoulder with a leer and asked, "Well, what would make it better?"

"Are you done with that cat yet?" I asked, ignoring her question.

"Yes," she said with a sigh, "If I keep rinsing him he will turn into a prune." She slipped under my arm and reached for a towel. We both wrapped the towel around the cat and dried him off before I set him on the floor so that he could clean himself up and repair the damage that we had done.

"I need a break before we wash the next... cat," Mom said with a grin. "Would you pour us some coffee and I'll get the wash started."