Chapter 6

The semester progressed. At school, Carla and I got closer to the end of another successful term. At home, we continued to have incredibly torrid sex.

At the time, I lived in a part of the country where it never got too cold in the winter, and even if it had, the house was kept nice and toasty, thanks to central heating. One night, before the evening temps got too brisk, I remember Carla and I had just made love when she suggested we go outside and join my mother in the back patio, and so we did. Carla wore one of my many black T-shirts that fit her like a daring mini-skirt. I stepped outside completely naked, as I had before in the summer, with my mother for company. Mom was out there already and the three of us sat around, Carla and Mother in lounge chairs, I on one of the patio benches near the wooden picnic table. The three of us engaged in casual conversation. I'll confess that the breeze was laced with a hint of autumn chill, but I pretended not to notice. I was too busy enjoying myself, pretending that it was the most natural thing in the world to be sitting outside in the twilight while wearing my birthday suit, talking to my girlfriend and mother.

My home exposure continued, with and without Carla. That's what it had become too, more than comfort: exposure. I remember actually finding excuses to walk out and be naked in my mom's presence. And I was now constantly cupping and clutching myself around her. She took it all in stride. More than that, she was enjoying the show. This is a certainty. It grew obvious. If I didn't seek her out, she made it a point to come and find me.

My mother's eagerness only pushed me further. Every now and then, while watching a show on television, I'd groan at the appearance of a hottie and openly run my hands over my penis and testicles. On one occasion, a woman appeared in a g-string and I muttered an "Oh my God!" and cupped myself more overtly than ever before way down near my balls. This thickened my penis and pointed it, fat and semi-erect, toward my mother. She giggled and, never taking her eyes away from my slow squeezes, said she was going to tell Carla that I was being unfaithful with a bunch of electronic cuties. "She probably wouldn't care, Mom," I said.

In fact, I told Carla about my increasingly crazy behavior and mounting desire to expose myself and she grew wild with lust at each of my stories. She also urged me to take things even further, to grab myself more frequently and overtly in front of my home audience. I seldom finished one of my stories, on the phone or in person without Carla fingering herself urgently to an orgasm.

I suppose that given my hyperactive libido, what happened next was quite inevitable. As I recall, it was right around Christmas break because Carla and I had both wrapped up the fall semester, leaving us with even more time than usual to devote to our hedonistic diversions.

Ah, youth. Even though Carla and I had just had a wonderful romp, I felt myself harden a few hours later, when she'd gone home. You'd think I hadn't had sex in days! I lay back on the bed and reached down and began to work on myself. It didn't take long before I had seven hard and thick inches to stroke. I could hear the distant sounds of the TV so I knew Mom was still up, but I was feeling too lazy and too horny to do anything about my open door. In fact, I was so engrossed in stroking away that I didn't hear my mother approaching my bedroom and didn't even see her until she was through the door!

Mom stopped dead in her tracks and I stopped what I was doing in mid-stroke. I felt myself start to shrink as she backed up toward the door. She stammered an "Excuse me" and left the room.

For the next few days, we ignored the situation. Actually, we avoided each other. I think each of us didn't know how to react, given the circumstances. Once again, we had crossed a boundary -- the most overtly sexual boundary yet. In the past, it had all been implied. Not this time. My mother had seen me stroking away at myself, my objective: to achieve orgasm.

Finally, on the third day of awkward silence, Mom knocked on the door and I covered up before letting her in.

She raised an eyebrow at my shorts then walked into the room. I asked her to sit on the bed and she did.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Don't play dumb," she said. "Give me credit for breaking the ice."

"You're right." Silence filled the space between us. "Finally," I continued, "About the other day, I'm sorry! I really am. I should've closed my door."

"Maybe you should have," she sighed, "but you didn't and it's done and the way we've been behaving is silly."

I nodded. "I agree completely."

"I miss my buddy," she said, reaching over onto the bed and hugging me where I sat. I hugged her back. "Even though you spend a lot of time with Carla now, we've always found time to spend with each other, even with your girlfriend. I don't want us to remain confused about this or grow distant with each other, as a result of it."

"Mom, you're the best! I can't believe the way you've managed to phrase it all. It's what I've been feeling, but I was too mortified to approach you to iron things out."

"Well, it's over, okay?" She smiled and stood before me. "Now, as a sign of good faith, get comfy."

"I am comfy," I said, but I felt a little charge at her words.

She smirked. "I mean get really comfy, Tony. Put on what you usually wear around the house when we're alone or when Carla's here."

I stood up and in one swift motion pulled off my jogging shorts and stood nude before her. "You mean my birthday suit, Mom?"

She grinned wider. "That's the one. Now let's go see what's on TV this afternoon."

Together, we strolled into the living room. Mom was wearing a pale blue T-shirt and cut-off jeans shorts. She was barefoot and she crossed her bare legs when she sat on the couch. I decided to be bold, so I grabbed them and placed her calves atop my knees, when I sat down next to her. Then, with my left hand, I began a slow massage of her feet.

In the middle of the movie (a boring B-grade action-flick), I couldn't resist and leaned over and hugged her legs tightly. "You're terrific, you know?"

She laughed. "So I've been told."

"Well, whoever told you before I did is right. You fixed things up and you did it better than I ever could."

"I thought about it," she said, "and it's not like I didn't see you do anything I didn't already know you did anyway. Quite frankly — and this should make you feel better -- I do it myself. But I'll be honest," her right foot nudged me in the ribs playfully; "I didn't expect you to be doing that anymore, with Carla in the picture."