Chapter 6

I slept in. Mom and Dad were already downstairs and were just finishing breakfast when I stumbled into the kitchen rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. Mom was a picture of wholesome health but the girlish braids were unable to hide her underlying sexual maturity. She wore a khaki hiking outfit with a loose-fitting shirt made of that quick-dry material and a matching pair of shorts. The the shorts fit snugly around her hips and bottom and though the legs were a little loose they were quite short, resting high atop legs that were bare down to a pair of hiking boots with socks peeking just an inch above.

“It’s about time you got up lazybones,” Mom greeted me cheerily. “I’ve been waiting for you for an hour to take me for a picnic.”

“Picnic?”

“Yes. It’s Mother’s day and I want you to take me up to Old Baldy, to our secret family viewpoint.”

Mom was referring to the outcropping below the viewpoint on our local mountain. It was about an hour’s hike to the viewpoint and there was a moss-covered rock below it that gave almost as good a view but was much better for a picnic because hardly anyone bothered to scramble down the rocky trail to it. The thought of spending hours alone with Mom on a private, mossy rock appealed to every bone in my body, and one in particular.

“Hurry up, now,” Mom urged. “Get something to eat while I finish making our lunch.”

Obediently, I rushed to pour myself some cereal.

“Where’s Dad?” I asked.

“Having his coffee outside. Quickly now.”

I finished my breakfast in record time and Mom rushed me upstairs to get dressed. I did that in a hurry too and ran down the stairs to find Mom waiting by the door, a couple of small backpacks stuffed and ready to go. I could hardly wait to get her up that mountain.

“Don’t forget your Dad,” Mom said, pointing to the backyard.

“Right.” I rushed through the kitchen to say goodbye to Dad, leaning through the backdoor with one hand pressed against the inside wall, “Dad.”

Dad’s head spun around and he got up from his chair, coffee cup in hand. I was about to say goodbye when his attire stopped me.

“Ready?” Dad asked. He was wearing the same hiking outfit Mom had on.

I nodded, speechless.

“About time,” Dad said, brushing past me through the door. “Emily, you ready?” he called out.

“Waiting for you,” Mom shouted back.

Fuck!

So off we went. Dad drove and an hour later we arrived at the trailhead. He and I carried the packs. The only good part was that he led the way and I followed Mom, eyes on her sexy behind all the way. We passed a few people on the way, going up and down, and two couples at the lookout. We hung around looking at the view until the others left, which took about fifteen minutes. After Dad was sure they were gone and nobody else was coming, we carefully picked our way down around the bluff. Our preferred site was empty. We had it all to ourselves.

Mom pulled a large blanket from one of the packs and spread it over the moss. Our lunch was emptied from the other pack and we sat down to enjoy the view while we ate. It was a beautiful sunny day. Dad finished eating first and leaned back on his elbow to relax. Mom and I were still sitting, she with her legs crossed, me with my elbows resting on my knees. After a few minutes, Dad arranged one of the packs under his head and lay on his back. Mom and I continued to take in the view, finishing our lunch in silence.

Mom finished her sandwich and tipped her water bottle up to take a long drink. I took the opportunity to watch the way her shirt stretched over her small breasts. I was pretty sure she wasn’t wearing a bra. Mom tipped the bottle up too high and water spilled outside her mouth, running down her neck. She jerked the bottle down and pulled it away from her mouth, lifting one arm to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand. I continued admiring her front and she smiled at me. I wasn’t worried about Dad. His head was out of sight behind Mom’s back but I was pretty sure his eyes were closed. Disappointment welled up inside me again as I thought about how wonderful this would have been with just the two of us.

Mom put her bottle down and started brushing crumbs from her legs. Her action was quite mechanical but that changed when she looked up to see me watching her closely. Then, she stretched one leg out, leaving the other with its foot curled underneath the thigh of the outstretched leg. Now, more slowly, she continued to brush away crumbs, though I couldn’t see any. Brush ... brush ... brush. Her movements became more languid, more sensual, her fingertips removing unseen crumbs from the very tops of her thighs, seemingly to be found all on the inside. Mom batted her eyelids.

“Do you have any water left?”

I replied that I did, looking down at the water bottle she had set down on the blanket, still half full. Nevertheless, I retrieved my bottle and held it out to her, but she ignored it, continuing to brush away phantom crumbs. I unscrewed the lid and offered the bottle again but Mom still ignored it. Changing my position to lean close to her, I held my bottle to Mom’s lips.

She drank. A small sip. I held the bottle an inch away for a few seconds, then offered it to her again. Mom took another sip but this time she spilled some from her mouth, letting it run down her chin and onto her thighs below. I was surprised because I had barely tipped the bottle and she could have easily handled what spilled into her mouth.

Mom looked at the water on her thighs, then at me. Carefully, I secured the cap on my water bottle and set it down in the moss behind me. Turning back to Mom, I put out one hand to lean on and stretched the other over her lap, looked into her eyes, and dropped it onto her wet thighs. The way Mom’s eyes smoldered, she could have looked down and dried her legs with a single glance. Despite the water, her thighs were hot from the sun.

I slid my hand over Mom’s thighs, spreading the warm water around. It was soon gone. I held Mom’s gaze the whole time my hand rubbed her inner thighs. Her only reaction was to open her legs to allow me all the room I needed to do my job. My fingers slowly inched higher as they rubbed and I was soon stretching my fingertips under the leg of Mom’s shorts. Still, she held my eyes.

I curled my fingers back and moved my hand closer, then stretched my fingers out, but not under the leg of her shorts. Instead, I brushed my knuckles against the outside, in the puffy center where her pouting pussy pushed up from the inside. Mom’s mouth opened in surprise and a small gasp escaped past her lips. I teased her for several minutes, finding her groove and brushing my knuckles up and down inside it, then turning my hand around and rubbing my finger up and down and then sideways back and forth.

I smiled. How glorious to feel the sun on my back and my mother’s pussy in my hand. I forgave her for allowing my father to join us on our day. What a special mother, to sit with her husband lying behind her with legs spread wide open, offering her pussy to her son. I nodded my head, flashing my eyes over her shoulder. She looked back, then returned her eyes to mine, nodding.

I raised my hand, watching disappointment spread over Mom’s face as her pussy was left alone. But the disappointment was replaced with anticipation when my fingers freed a couple of buttons from her shirt and slipped inside to slither over her waiting tit, briefly fondling her already extended nipple, twisting around to slip underneath, lifting the weight of her breast as my thumb scraped down to flick her hard nipple, the silent cry on her lips an added reward.

We were both startled by the sudden appearance of my father’s hand on Mom’s shoulder pulling her back, down toward him. Awkwardly, Mom complied and was soon lying on her back next to Dad, his arm curled under her neck so his hand could hold hers, her neck fitting into the crook of his elbow. I could see Dad’s face now, eyes still closed, chest heaving a sigh of satisfaction.

I watched my parents for several minutes. Mother looked worried, lying stiffly in Dad’s arm, her open shirt a testimony that she might have been doing something more than taking in the view. Father, for his part, looked for all intents and purposes to be asleep. He hadn’t changed his position or expression after that first satisfied exhalation.

Mom’s legs were now both stretched out. I moved my hand toward her open thighs. The movement caught her attention and her look so clearly warned me away I could almost see her head shake. Mom glared as my hand slipped between her thighs and her legs closed to inhibit its advance but she wasn’t quick enough. Though my hand was now trapped my fingers were pressed against her warm spongy pussy. I couldn’t move my hand but I could press my fingers and I did just that, pulsing them against her puffy lips, again, and again, and again.

Mom glared at me as she lay in Dad’s arm, my hand working between her legs. I could understand her reaction. If he opened his eyes, we were done. I was my own behavior that was amiss. Nevertheless, I continued and in a matter of minutes Mom’s glare softened and was replaced by a glazed look. In that moment her legs relaxed, loosening their hold on my manipulating fingers. Immediately, I began to rub her pussy in longer strokes, though still soft and gentle. Her legs opened wider.

I aligned my fingers with her damp crevice and wiggled my fingertips, turning a faint line into shallow trench. I shifted closer so I was lying beside Mom, my hand reaching under the bottom of her partly raised thigh to keep my pliant fingers pressed into the ever deepening split dividing her mound. Confident in the knowledge of her acceptance, I slipped my hand up to her waist and quickly unsnapped her shorts with a quick twist of my fingers, my retreating fingertips blazing a trail parting the thin material of her quick-dry shorts. Now only her panties separated me from her damp pussy hair. When I reached the bottom of her mound, I pushed my fingers under, inside her legs, between her panties and shorts. So hot and wet.

Dad’s arm straightened and flopped to the side, almost hitting me in the head. He was dozing off. A moment later, I grabbed Mom, a hand on each hip, and tugged her down on the blanket and off Dad’s arm. I waited for Dad to settle into his new position. Mom didn’t resist when I turned her hips toward Dad, pushing her onto her side with her bottom facing me. She was lying awkwardly on one hip but twisted with her back still flat on the ground.

My hand slipped down from her hip, sliding over her bottom, cupping and caressing her buttocks. Though a forbidden touch, it was platonic compared to the teasing scrapes across the front of her shorts moments earlier. Mom relaxed as Dad’s breathing deepened and my hand maintained its relatively innocent exploration of her bottom. Perhaps due to my more muted appreciation, or because of her awkward position, Mom turned fully onto her side. I pushed on her right cheek, twisting her slightly forward, then slipped my hand between her legs, snug against the bottom of her pussy and pressed my thumb between her cheeks.

I started gently but regularly pressing and squeezing. Mom swung her hand behind her in a half-hearted attempt to push mine away, to no avail. After several swings, she let her hand fall along the outside of her thigh where it stayed, emphasizing the curve of her hip. After a few minutes of my squelching action, I used my free hand to tug Mom’s shorts down until, with a quick motion, I pulled my hand back and slid it back into place, but this time between her shorts and her bare ass and pussy.