Chapter 1

I was tired of Mom wasting her life. Dad had been dead for over two years, and it was time she started living again. I don’t think she was depressed, just in a rut. She had her best friend Jan and her career as an RN. She laughed and could have a good time; she just didn’t want to meet anybody new.

I loved my father, but he is gone, and my mom is only 41 years old and looks great. I’m not going to lie and say I never looked at my mom in that way, but I was always trying to sneak a peek. The good thing about this was that mom, being a nurse, was not bothered by nudity and she often would walk around in her robe or a bath towel and even her underwear when she was getting ready to go out. I had seen her, what I guessed to be 34 C’s, several times. If she caught me, she would just smile and wink, which always made my cheeks flush.

Her time was spent between work and the house. Jan could occasionally talk her into a movie or a party at her home, but she was not interested in men. Jan had set her up a few times, but it didn’t take. Mom always said she had all the man she needed at home. She would always say it jokingly, so nobody thought anything of it. I’m not going to lie, it always stirred my balls thinking about what that could mean, at least for me.

Mom was born Bonnie Joy Belter to her parents Bob and Jean who raised her right. She met my father while in school, becoming an RN. Dad was killed by a drunk driver two years ago when I was sixteen. It was a hell of a blow, but we got through it. Dad had left a nice insurance policy and the settlement with the assholes insurance left Mom and me in monetarily good shape, just without Dad.

I’m what I consider an average-looking dude. I worked out and played sports in high school. I didn’t date the prom queen, but I had a good sense of humor and some intelligence and did okay with the girls. Nothing spectacular, but I got laid a few times. I stand about 5’11” and my skin has cleared up. Short brown hair that I part on the side. This is not what is important here.

Mom is an attractive woman who has never gone unnoticed by my friends. I regularly was heard saying, “Dude, that’s my mom.” Bonnie is only a couple of inches shorter than me, and her medium-length blond shag always smells like lavender. She has baby blue eyes that will always capture your gaze. I always enjoy her breasts as they push into my chest when we embrace and Mom’s a hugger.

We have always been honest with each other, and she knows I lost my virginity to her best friend’s daughter, Julie, whom I still see now and then, kind of a friend with benefits, usually when she is in between boyfriends. Works for me. Mom shared she lost hers when she was seventeen to a boy she thought she was going to marry, didn’t work out. I asked about her seeing other men, but she explained that she just wasn’t interested. When I countered with, “What about your needs as a woman?”

She laughed and said, “I’ve got it all in hand.”

“You and me both.” I retorted.

Mom and I got along great. She laughed at my jokes and had a few fart and dick jokes of her own she would bring out after a few cocktails. I would procure the Canibus, and she would get the booze. The rule was if I was drinking, I stayed home and that was fine with me. We never over did it, just a little partying when we were alone, which was most nights. I enjoyed our time together.

I had graduated from high school a month before and with my insurance money, I was taking the summer off and thinking about my next step. Going to college was never something I focused on, but I had time for that. I planned my day around Mom. If she worked the graveyard shift, I would alter my sleeping schedule so I would be up when she was home. I would fix her breakfast in hopes of catching a glimpse of her cleavage. I took care of her and we grew closer, counting on each other.

As spring moved into summer I noticed a couple of things. The movies we watched after dinner were becoming more of a romantic/erotic nature. The other was what she was wearing around the house. It had gone from a full bathrobe or sweatpants and sweatshirts to a short terry cloth robe or Dad’s old t-shirts and panties. I know she is doing this on purpose, or think she’s doing it on purpose, but what if I’m wrong and she doesn’t think anything of it? I had to be sure but wasn’t getting my hopes up. Of course, when she would bend over and give me a shot of those wonderful tits or her satin covered ass, it wasn’t my hopes that was coming up.

One evening we were watching a really erotic film, 50 Shades of Something. Anyway, we drank a couple of cocktails and smoked some weed. Mom was wearing a white T-shirt that barely covered her panties, and I was in a pair of gym shorts and no shirt. She was lying back on the arm of the couch, her body stretched out in front of me with her feet in my lap, to which I was giving a gentle massage.

Without turning my head from the TV, my eyes strained to spy up her bare legs exposed in front of me. I looked and saw her eyes fixed on the sex scene playing out in front of us. Her nipples strained at her thin cotton shirt. My hands stroked her feet, and I grew hard in my shorts. I tried to move her feet away, but the side of her foot and ankle brushed against me and we both froze.

I looked up to her face and her eyes were closed and she was biting her lower lip. I felt her foot move into my crotch and found its target. Her eyes remained closed as her foot pressed against my hardon. Time to cross a bridge that can’t be uncrossed. I took that foot in one hand pulling the top of my shorts down, I pressed her foot against the heat of my 7-inch cock. I used her ankle to wipe the precum that was dripping off the head of my dick.

Her eyes still closed tight, I held her foot against me and let my free hand slide up her smooth calf. When I got to her knees, her legs parted and I was looking at the smallest part of her panties, covering her secrets, soaked with her juices. I looked up and she was staring at me with those beautiful blue eyes and whispered, “Tommy?” Those eyes screaming so many questions.