Chapter 1

My parents are nudists.

I am definitely not a nudist. When I was younger -- I'm now all of 18 - they would take me and my sister to camps and colonies where everyone was bare-ass all the time. As I entered teenhood, I put my foot down, deterred by a mix of teenage angst about my own body and the horrible but distinct possibility of developing a raging erection at the sight of all those bouncing boobs and shaved pussies.

Speaking of which, my Mom was shaven - not an unusual condition for a nudist, I knew. But so was my Dad. This was not common in the U.S., but apparently quite normal in Sweden, from which his family harkened. My Mom's family was also from the Scandanavian plains (Norway), which accounted for our blond hair, blue eyes and immunity to cold.

Both my parents also have the big-boned bodies typical of their heritage. My Dad is tall and well-proportioned - in every sense. My mother is also tall with firm, upright breasts and skin that turns golden brown at the slightest hint of sunlight.

All that early nudity - coupled with whatever instinct deters incest - had made me completely oblivious to my parents' sexuality. Seeing my mother's shaven pubis or pert breasts jiggling as she walked elicited not the slightest sexual twinge. Ironically, the same image of any other woman got me hard as steel in a matter of seconds.

All that changed after the day I tried to shave myself.

Yes, yes. I was curious. Curious to know what it felt like not to have any hair around my cock or balls. Curious why my father went to the trouble on a weekly basis. Did I ask? Hell no! I was about as likely to ask a question like that of either my Dad or my Mom as fly to the moon. But I was curious enough to try it - with disastrous results.

You see, when you try to shave a wrinkled mass like your scrotum - and don't know what you're doing -- the blade inevitably gets caught on the folds of skin. Because I had meticulously warmed and softened the skin (soaking in a hot tub for over 30 minutes) I couldn't feel what I was doing to myself. Nor could I see it at the time - it was on the underside of my balls. But I cut myself up pretty well.

I cleaned up as best I could and put on some antiseptic. It apparently kept bleeding, however, as I discovered when my mother gave a horrified gasp as I walked in the living room.

"Honey, what did you do to your leg?" she cried.

I looked down. There was a large swath of blood on the inside of my left thigh. Damn, I thought.

"Um - nothing. I'll go clean it up."

I turned and hurried off into to bathroom. A few moments later there was a knock.

"Baby - are you sure you're all right?" It was my mother. "Can I come in?" she asked.

"Sure, Mom" I said.

She came in and inspected my leg.

"What on earth did you do?" she inquired.

"Uh, well." I couldn't think of anything on the spot, so I was forced to come clean. "I was just trying to shave" I said lamely.

"Oh honey" she said, in the tone only a mother can achieve - a mixture of concern and chastisement. "Let me take a look."

I groaned inwardly at the thought of my mother inspecting my balls.

"Come on - I need to see if you're ok, or if you need to go to the doctor." She came forward and, before I could react, was pulling off my shorts.

I stood, embarrassed, as she knelt down inspected me. She gently lifted my balls.

"Oooh - you really did a number on yourself," she commented. "But I think it's superficial."

Notice, by the way, that my mother is kneeling in front of me, completely naked, with one hand lifting my balls and her mouth inches from my cock. Did I have even the most fleeting sexual thought? Nope. Never occurred to me. So as you read on, keep firmly in mind my early state of innocence.

She got down the antibiotic ointment (or whatever it was - she used to be a nurse) and got me all patched up.

"Ok, young man. You're all ready to go, but not until you tell me what you were up to," she said with a stern look in her eye.

"Mom, I was just seeing what it would be like to shave... there."

"Well, I can understand your curiousity - but you can't just do something like that yourself." She shook her head. "If you really want to do that, I or your father can help you, ok. But don't try it yourself."

With that, she gave me a quick peck on the cheek and turned and left.

I watched her naked buttocks in move in rhythm as she walked away. I know what you're thinking, but no - nothing but slight, objective admiration for the way she kept herself in shape.

It was at least two weeks later, at the breakfast table, that Mom casually raised the subject again:

"Honey, how is your... area?."

I blushed slightly. I was glad my Dad wasn't there - he was on a business trip.

"It's fine, Mom. All cured."

"Have you abandoned the idea of shaving, or are you still thinking about it?" she asked.

"I don't know - I guess I probably haven't," I said honestly.

"Well, I'm going to buy some new razors this morning, so I'll get one for you."

"Mom, I have razors," I replied.

"No, honey, these are special razors for very sensitive areas."

Now that she mentioned it, I vaguely recalled seeing slightly different looking razors in my parents' shower.

I didn't think about it again until that evening. My Mom was making dinner and I was sprawled on the couch watching a hockey game. When she was done, she came in and sat down next to me. She was holding a glass of wine and she looked slightly flushed.

"Well," she said. "Are you still willing to go under the knife? I got new razors." She looked at me somewhat mischievously. I could tell she liked the idea - probably thought she could make a nudist out of me yet.

"God, Mom," I groaned. "To be honest, I don't really want to be shaved by you."

"Well that's perfectly ok, honey," she said in a tone that made it obvious it wasn't.

She got up and went back into the kitchen.

I got up and followed her, reluctantly reconsidering. She was at the stove with her back to me.

"Mom," I said

"What, hon?"

"Ok, I'll do it."

"Well don't force yourself." she said, turning and arching her eyebrow.

"I'm not. It's just..."

"What?" she demanded.

"I don't know, Mom - the thought of being shaved by your mother, like... down there."

"I'm your mother." she said in a practical tone. "And I've done a lot worse things to you since you were a baby."

"Yeah, yeah, ok. Well what do I do?"

"C'mon," she said, standing up and polishing off her wine. "I'll help you so you don't hurt yourself."

"Well," I hesitated and then agreed. "Okay."

She took me upstairs to the master bathroom. She moved efficiently about, gatheing up the razor, a pair of scissors, a can of shaving cream, a couple of washcloths, a large towel, and a bottle of baby lotion. She ran some hot water in the sink and set the towel on the edge of the bathtub. She pulled the wicker wastebasket next to the edge of the towel. The rest of the supplies she neatly arranged on the sink cabinet.

"Okay." she told me, sitting on the floor before the tub. "Get naked and let's take off the hair."

I was struck with a major attack of modesty right then. It was a combination of her use of the term "naked" as applied to me and the fact that she was kneeling on the floor before the spot that I was about to sit with my everything revealed.

"I think I need a beer for this." I told her, dashing from the bathroom, hearing her chuckle as I departed.

We didn't have any, naturally, so I had to settle for wine, which I don't like. I forced myself. I took a huge swig directly from the bottle, the wine burning as it traveled down my throat. I wondered what my mother would think if she'd seen me do that. I took another quick swig and then filled up a glass, carrying it back upstairs with me. Only then did I feel I could disrobe without dying of embarrassment.

Mom remained silent as I unzipped my pants and pushed them down. I stripped off my underpants and tossed them on top of the pants. I then sat down on the edge of the tub, on the towel she'd put there.

"Jeff," she said, "How am I supposed to shave you when your legs are together?"

I looked down seeing that I did indeed have my legs tightly together, hiding the area we were attempting to do work upon. Smiling modestly, more embarrassed than I'd probably ever been in my life, I spread them revealing my crotch to her gaze. It was strange. I'd never been modest about my private parts before. I knew my equipment looked pretty good (just judging from peers). But Mom wasn't a girl or a man - she was Mom, and she was kneeling at face level right in front of me. I felt exposed before her like I'd never felt before.

"You don't need to be embarrassed." Mom told me, picking up the scissors. "You have a nice looking penis. "

"Oh, God, Mom" I groaned as she pushed my thighs further apart, spreading me wider.

She went to work. As she clipped and snipped my pubic hair as close to the skin as she could get it I became aware of her hands between my legs. They flitted here and there, rhythmically pulling a pinch away from the skin and cutting it. She would then brush it downward where it would join the pile accumulating on the towel. As she trimmed close to my balls themselves I felt her fingers brush against them several times and I marveled that she was able to do something like this to her son. She was humming under her breath as she worked on me.