Chapter 1

Roxy wiped her brow and got on her knees by the cupboard. "Damn," she thought. "It's hot!"

She was so surprised and happy that her son had volunteered to help her today. With his help, she'd finished her spring cleaning in half the time. She smiled at him before diving back into the cabinet to get out the last of the junk. Beaming down at her, he seemed so happy to spend time with his mom today.

'Such a handsome young man' She felt the stirrings again. She crawled forward into the darkness of the cabinet to hide the pinkness that rushed to her cheeks.

Danny, for his part, was having one hell of a day. He had been blessed—and cursed—with a mother who was considered a "total MILF" by his buddies, and after school conferences, half the males in the school.

That particular day, she'd worn a tight black tank that showed off her "rack" (as it was termed by the boy who ended up with a black eye), an equally form-fitting red shiny stretch skirt that accentuated her behind and came to a little bit above mid-thigh, and high heeled platform Mary Janes with big black bows and without stockings.

To top it off, the tank didn't quite cover her lacy red bra, and the straps, like most blessed to ride on her shoulders, seemed to have a mind of their own. He'd been so embarrassed then. The other guys ribbed him about it without mercy for the entire year.

To her credit, when Danny had confronted her about it, Roxy had made an effort to dress more like a ... well, a mom, whenever she had to be in the company of juveniles. She was a terrific mom.

The damage, however, was done. It didn't matter what she wore. His friends and the others still saw her in that brief, tight outfit, and he'd gotten into more than one fight over their comments. Worst of all was the fact that the observations of his friends and classmates called his attention to his mother's feminine assets, and he was having some very un-offspring-like feelings toward her.

This morning, he had been on the way out the door to the skate park as usual when he caught sight of her, chestnut hair radiant in the sun as she bent to sort the books in the legal-style bookshelf. She struggled with the door, trying to hold it up as she rearranged the volumes. Danny had hurried to hold it up for her and been treated as a result to her enchanting smile and the startling sight of tiny droplets of perspiration on the swells forming her cleavage.

He thrilled to the sight. The kid was right; his mom did have quite a nice rack. Roxy finished the task and started to stand. Unexpected disappointment flooded Danny at the thought of losing his view.

"Hey, Mom," his plan formed quickly, as if it had been in his mind his entire life. "Why don't I help you out with the spring cleaning this afternoon? I was just gonna be lazy and hang with the guys anyway."

Roxy looked at her son and raised a perfectly formed eyebrow, incredulity plain in her cornflower eyes. She was smart enough to realize the rarity of the offer that her son was making and quick to reply.

"Well, Danny, that would be wonderful! Are you sure? You don't have to, you know."

Danny nodded eagerly.

The dear! "Well, if you're sure..." Her teeth pinched her full bottom lip as she thought, oblivious to the erotic effect on him. "We'll finish the bookcase and work our way through the house. With your help, it'll only take a day! Hey, maybe if you still want to hang out with your old mom, we can go to the docks or something tomorrow. I'll have the whole day off."

Danny grinned as unbidden visions of his mother in her hot pink bikini rushed in upon him. He looked around nonchalantly, trying to hide the flush of pink in his cheeks.

"Uh, sure, Mom. That sounds fun." He went and put away his backpack and skateboard and returned to the living room.

"Well, handsome son of mine," Roxy beamed, still unable to believe her luck, "Why don't you start by holding these heavy doors so I can finish with these books?"

Danny dutifully did as he was told. He was not told, however, to steal glances at his mother's chest. The soft flesh of her full breasts jiggled with the rapid movements of her arms pulling and replacing the books one by one. He felt familiar stirrings that he'd never before dreamed could be caused by his mother; stirrings that increased exponentially when she squeezed between him and the bookcase and her breast, soft and full, pressed against his bare leg.

Even better—or worse, he hadn't decided yet—as she reached to get at the books there, the shocking yellow of her bra peeked out, contrasting sharply with the deep pinkish tan of her skin. He nearly lost it when she bent over to back out from under the door he held for her and he was treated to a glimpse of her nipple as the fullness of her breasts responded to gravity.

He realized that her face—her sensual mouth—was inches from the growing bulge in his pants for just a few seconds. "Oh, God," he thought. "I hope she didn't notice that!" He couldn't believe that he was feeling this way about his own mother any more than he could stop the rising heat in him. It seemed to pulse, and he was sure that it broadcasted to her, but checking her expression, he saw no indication she was aware of anything out of sorts.

Danny was correct. Roxy was not aware of his growing excitement. She was too busy struggling with her own feelings. Roxy was definitely a leg woman, and she could not help but notice her son's calves, muscular from the skating he did every day. She felt a sharp electricity shoot up from her groin to her face. Her nipples hardened at the forbidden thought invading her mind as she wondered what it would be like to caress and squeeze his thighs.

She wondered briefly how like his father he really was, and blushed as she realized what she was thinking. She glanced over anxiously at Danny. She hoped he hadn't noticed anything. He was looking at a painting on the wall.

"Good," she told herself, relieved, "He didn't." She brushed away the thoughts plaguing her and concentrated on her work. They rushed back on her like a flood when she squeezed between him and the bookcase and her breast pressed against his firmly muscled leg. Another flood had started its trickle, too.

Mortified, she turned from him to survey the room, hands on her hips in what she hoped was a very motherly pose. She took the opportunity to close her eyes and take a deep, slow breath.