My Mom is a Hot Mom Ch. 01

I passed by the kitchen, and mom already was there. She was wearing gray cotton shorts and a long sleeve, gray cotton top with a big scoop neck over what looked like a white tank top. She was in her bare feet, too. She had a clutch of pasta noodles in her hand and already was busy making dinner. She looked up from her task at me and smiled.

I was aware I was standing in front of my mom, naked but for a bath towel. I'm not conceited about my looks, but I'm not shy about my body, either. I'd been in a towel in front of my mom before, and it was not a big deal. But with all the new thoughts this afternoon about my mom being hot, it suddenly felt different being exposed this way. It never had occurred to me to think about how I looked to my mom undressed. But it did now. I had looked at her as a woman, and I wondered how she looked at me as a young man. The towel was low on my waist and showed off my lean torso, and my well-defined abdominal muscles. I didn't have big biceps or triceps, but my shoulders were broad. I didn't have a lot of body hair, so I knew my smooth, lean, hard chest was exposed to her. I wondered what I looked like to her.

"Looking for something to wear?" she asked me. Her eyes strayed from mine to my bare chest, and back.

"Yeah, sorry, just headed for the laundry room," I said.

"No apology necessary," she said with a grin.

I scurried off to the laundry room and fished some long shorts and a t-shirt out of dryer. For some reason, I decided to skip the underwear. I pulled the warm clothes on quickly, dropped the damp towel in a hamper, and headed back to the kitchen.

Mom and I chatted more about my classes. I hadn't settled on a major -- I had no idea what I was going to do after college -- and, so far, my class choices had no rhyme or reason to them: econ, computer science, art history, to name a few. I sensed that mom was, gently, trying to encourage me to focus on what I was going to do with my life. She didn't make any headway that evening.

When the pasta was cooked we sat down at the table to eat dinner and a salad I helped her make, and mom pulled out a bottle of red wine. I wasn't much of a wine drinker, but she assured me it was something good -- a pinot noir -- so I took a glass and drank it with dinner.

After dinner, I helped mom clear the table and put the dishes in the sink. Once that was done, mom picked up the wine bottle, which still was about half full, and the two drained wine glasses.

"Randy, let's sit in the living room and chat," she said.

"Sounds good to me, mom," I said.

We sat together on a spacious, comfy sofa in the living room, mom at one end, and me about two-thirds of the way toward the other end. Mom put her back against the arm of the sofa and stretched her legs out toward me. I could not help but check out her outstretched legs in the little gray shorts. The other thing I noticed about the shorts was that, although they weren't long, they were somewhat loose, and the holes of the legs fit her legs loosely. A broad expanse of the smooth skin of her upper thigh lay visible under the shorts. One leg was bent up, while the other was bent and lay on the sofa, with her foot curled under the other leg.

She poured wine into our glasses and set the bottle down on the side table behind her. She clinked her glass against mine and said "Cheers." I said "Cheers" in reply.

"So, Randy, I haven't heard about your love life lately. Anything going on in that department?"

Being quizzed about girls by my mother wasn't the most comfortable way to begin a conversation, but it wasn't something we'd talked about for a while. It was fair for her to ask.

"Not much going on. The semester just started. I've been to a couple of parties but haven't met anyone."

I had dated a girl at my school named Tilly during the summer, but we'd broken a few weeks before the fall semester started. I'd hooked up with another girl after a party right after school started, but I didn't really want to talk to my mom about that.

"I'm not really in a hurry right now. It will happen when it happens," I said. "What about you, mom? When are you going to start dating?"

"I'm surprised you ask," she said. "Are you OK with me starting to date?"

"Of course, mom. I want you to be happy. Dad's been seeing what's her name since you two broke up. It's only fair you get to have some fun too."

The truth was, it would be strange to see my mom dating someone, but it had been over a year since the breakup, and I hated to see mom be lonely.

Mom didn't reply to me right away. She looked at me, her eyes still and barely blinking, appraising me in some way or for something; I couldn't tell what.

"What is it?" I asked.

"You don't act 19," she said. "You don't seem 19 to me. You've never seemed like your age." She looked off to the side, her eyes focused somewhere, far away.

"I remember taking you to the playground when you were five years old. You'd play with the other kids. I didn't have to worry about that. But the thing I remember is that you'd walk up to the other adults sitting on the benches watching their kids, and you'd start talking to them. You'd charm them. You'd carry on long conversations with them, even as a little kid. You were a little adult, even then. And now you are a real adult, and you seem a lot older than you are. I look at you and I don't see a 19-year old."

She was quiet for half a minute and we both sipped our wine.

"I've thought about dating. I've kept myself busy with work, and with you, and working out, so until now I haven't thought about it much. But I think I'm ready. I even checked out an online dating site. I realized I don't have any good recent photos of myself to set up a profile."

"I could help you with that, mom. I know how to use a camera," I said.

"Yes, I know. You're quite handy with that, like with a lot of things."

She beamed a big smile at me, and then she noticed that her glass and mine were empty again.

"Time for a refill," she said. She twisted her torso to the side and stretched back to grab the wine bottle behind her head. And I just couldn't help but run my eyes up and down the smooth thigh stretched out closest to me -- the long expanse of unblemished, lightly-tanned, supple skin. My eyes kept following the curve of her leg to her inner thigh, where it disappeared under the loose-fitting cotton shorts.

Only, it didn't completely disappear. The shorts were loose and the leg hole had popped open. And that's when I saw it.

My god, I thought. Mom isn't wearing panties.

My view extended all the way to the skin between her legs. I actually caught a glimpse of well-trimmed dark blonde hair. The pussy itself was just out of view.

And then mom reached back just a little more, to get the wine bottle. The opening in the shorts grew a little wider -- just enough to see a puff of pussy lip, and beyond that a brief but glorious glimpse at the shy slit of her pussy.

I was looking at my mom's pussy.

It was just a glimpse. It lasted no more than a second, because it took little more than that for her to grab the wine bottle and start turning back to me. But the sight of it was burned into my brain. My mom's pussy. I'd never seen it before. We weren't a prudish family, but we weren't nudists, either. I'd never seen my mom naked. Now, I had seen her pussy. I could never un-see it. Nor would I want to.

I felt a sharp stiffening under my shorts immediately. Right away, I regretted not wearing underwear. I was aroused, instantly, and it would be difficult to conceal the fact.

I'd been sitting with my feet on the sofa toward mom. I brought my legs up and bent them to hide what I knew, very soon, would be a raging erection.

"You all right?" mom asked.

"Yeah," I said. "I think my, uh, foot fell asleep."

"Well, here, let me have your glass." Mom poured the rest of the contents of the bottle into our glasses.

Mom took a few sips in quiet and then looked at me again.

"So, you think I should try the online dating thing?" she asked.

To be honest, I had mixed feelings about that. I did want mom to be happy, and I knew that eventually she would want another man in her life. I knew also that because she was beautiful and charming she would have plenty of options. But I had enjoyed having mom to myself. I had a hard time imagining a man who would be good enough for her. It was a strange feeling, coming from a son, but I felt a twinge of jealousy at the idea of her being with other men. But I wasn't going to say that to her. I wanted to be supportive.

"I think you should give it a try," I said. "You'll have no problem finding men to date."

"That's what I worry about," she said. "From what I've heard, most of the really eligible men on these sites are looking for women a lot younger. Like your dad. I'm not really looking forward to that. I want to dad somebody my age, not somebody who's sixty."

"Mom, I don't think you are going to have a problem. You don't look like a normal 40-year-old. You're beautiful. You keep yourself in great shape and look really young. Even my friends say so."

"Well, that's sweet of you. It's nice to hear. After the divorce and your father leaving me -- it was hard. Hard on my self-confidence. My self-image. I've sometimes felt over-the-hill at the age of 40. It's not a good feeling."

"You sure as hell don't have to worry about that, mom. You're anything but over the hill. "

"Thanks," she said. She cracked a little smile. "That's funny what you said about your friends. I always knew Tucker had a little crush on me. He was always tongue tied when I was around. It was very cute."

"Yeah, he thought you were more than a little cute. He always said you were 'hot.' It got kind of annoying. Not that you weren't," I added quickly. "It just was annoying to have a friend talk that way about my mom."

"I know what you mean," she said. "I seem to remember overhearing him say that once. It was sweet. And flattering."

"You're very pretty, mom," I said. "If you set up a dating profile right you'll have no problem getting eligible men interested. I can help you by taking some nice photos of you."

"I accept your offer, Randy. Thanks."

I got an idea.

"I'll take a photo of you right now," I said, reaching for my phone, lying on the sofa behind me.

"No, Randy, I haven't prepared for it. I don't even have makeup on."

"You don't need it, mom. You look great. And this lighting actually is pretty good."

It was. It was nighttime, but the room was well lit, and the camera on the phone was good enough that it would take a good photo in moderate, indoor lighting without too much graininess showing up in the resulting photographs.

"OK, then," she said. "How should I pose?"

I took charge. I enjoyed my mom asking me to tell her what to do.

"Sit up straight. Put your arm on the back of the sofa. Shoulders back. Like that. Try a couple of different positions with your legs. Point your toes."

One of my classes the previous year had been a photography class, and I had gotten some experience photographing models, so I was familiar with at least the rudiments of posing, and of directing.

I had mom assume several different positions and took photos of her. I didn't want her to try to look sexy, because that wasn't the right sort of look for an online profile. I was focusing on her face. Mom had a beautiful smile, with white even teeth, and her eyes lit up when she smiled, as well. But even as I focused on her face, and tried to get a good portrait shot, I couldn't help but notice her lithe figure in the gray shorts and top. It occurred to me as well, for the first time that evening -- I didn't think she was wearing a bra. I wasn't certain, because she was wearing both a tank top and a long sleeve top over that, but I didn't see a hint of a bra strap, and there was something about the natural slope and curve of her breasts under the top that suggested she had no artificial support.

She doesn't need it, I thought to myself.

A few more snaps and I was done.

I was having a great time with mom, and I never had felt this way in her presence before -- so aware of her as a woman, and not just as mom. It was thrilling, and arousing. I was aware that I still had a hard-on, and I had gotten careless about trying to hide it. I thought that by now she must have noticed it, but if she had she wasn't giving anything away.

She patted me on the knee.

"I'm going to clean up," she said. She stood up and took my empty wine glass and walked to the kitchen.

"I'll help," I said.

"No, I'll do it. You probably have school work to do."

Actually, I didn't. I was pretty good about getting homework done quickly, and I'd finished it quickly at school after my last class was done.

At the moment, it was hard to think about homework, because when mom had gotten up and walked to the kitchen I'd been given a nice view of her pert ass in the gray shorts, and all I could think about was the absence of panties under them, and the lack of any panty line. Mom's ass was perfect -- firm, round, and sculpted. I knew she did squats and other exercises at the gym to keep it in shape, and whatever she did, it worked.

The sight didn't help my hard on, though. If I stood up and followed her to the kitchen to help it would be impossible to hide the conspicuous tent under my shorts. I decided to take mom up on her offer and retreat to my room instead.

"Thanks for dinner, mom. I'm going to my room to get some work done. I'll process the photos for you, too."

I had partly turned myself around to hide my erection as I talked. Mom turned back to me, and I'm not sure if I successfully hid my hard-on, or not.

"It was nice to chat with you, Randy. I appreciate your support. Love you."

"Love you, too, mom."

I walked the rest of the way to my room, my erection straining against my shorts.

I shut my bedroom door behind me and walked to my desk. I sat down with the computer screen in front of me. I unzipped my shorts, and my cock popped up and out, standing up straight. It was a relief not to have it straining against the shorts anymore.

The computer already was turned on. I connected the phone to the computer with a USB cable and downloaded the photos. I scrolled through them.

The first one was the one I'd taken of us during our run, which turned out well. Then I saw the one I took of just her, on the hill, in the glow of sunset. She looked beautiful, like a model.

I scrolled further, through the photos I'd taken of her on the sofa. I was glad to see they'd turned out well. The light had been good enough, and her face was lit up with a beautiful smile. Several of them would be good enough to get a good dating site portrait shot.

I scrolled a little more, and then I stopped.

I hadn't planned to take any sexy photos of mom on the sofa, and I hadn't directed her to pose provocatively. But I had taken a photo of her when she had been shifting from one position to the other. In this photo, she was sitting up, with one leg bent up and pressed against the back of the sofa, and the other leg bent and lying against the sofa seat. Her legs were spread open in this photo, and the angle stretched the shorts open, just as before -- but even more so.

The shorts were spread open wide enough that mom's pussy was on display in the photo.

I had no idea I had done it at the time, but I had taken a photograph of my mother's pussy.

I could see the dark blond fuzz. The curtain matched the drapes.

I could see smooth outer lips, and inside them the thinner inner lips, pressed lightly together. The inviting vertical slit lay between them. I looked more closely, and I could swear that at one place in the dark slit, the lips parted a little, and there was just a glint of a pale color, where light from behind me must have reflected off moisture inside her.

If my cock had been hard before, it was like a rocket ship on the launch pad now, primed and ready for takeoff. My hand flew to it and seized it. I had stopped stroking myself to thoughts of mom in the shower earlier in the evening, but there was no way I could stop this time. I didn't care if it was wrong.

I thought about grabbing some lotion to help the process, but I didn't want to get up and take my eyes off mom's image. And, I didn't need it. Already, a dollop of precum lay over the hole at the top of my cock. With two more quick up and down strokes I milked more precum from my cock, and the resulting milky flow was enough to lubricate my length to do the job. I knew it wasn't going to take long, anyway.

I've gotten good at controlling how fast I come, and I haven't gotten a lot of complaints about coming too quickly, but I knew I was going to come fast this time. The sight of my beautiful mother smiling at me with those shining eyes, and her legs spread wide apart and her pussy fully on display for me, was too much for me to hold back.

I pumped away furiously, eyes transfixed on the picture before me, my thoughts a jumble of lust and desire. The dam had broken. I'd never thought of my mom as hot before this day, and now I didn't think I'd ever be able to look at her any other way.

God, you're so hot, mom, I thought. Your pussy, mom. Your hot pussy. Your wet cunt. Spread and on display for me. I love you, mom. You and your hot, wet, open pussy. You like that, don't you? Showing off your gaping, steaming fuck hole to your son, stroking his cock for you? You want me to come for you, don't you? Come on you? I'm going to do it, mom. I'm going to come for you and your wet pussy.

I felt just a twinge of guilt letting myself indulge these thoughts about my mom. My sweet mom. My loving mom. The woman who had given birth to me, raised me, cared for me. Now I was staring at her pussy and jerking off to her like she was a Hustler model. Yes, I can say that in that moment I felt guilty. A little bit. But not too much. Not enough to stop. In truth, I loved it. I loved the sight of my mom spread that way. I couldn't get enough of it.

My hand pumped up and down fast. I pulled hard on the upstroke, to draw my cock out and extend it as far as I could. I wanted to feel it getting longer for my mom, as long as I could make it. My hard, long cock, jerked rapidly by my fast-moving hand and getting close to climax, was my salute to my hot, spread-open mom.

Before I knew what was happening my cock pulsed twice and a thick spray of white goopy cum erupted from my cock tip. I had never seen so much cum spurt from my cock before. It went everywhere -- my hand, my shorts, even my shirt, and my desk. It even splattered right on the computer monitor, directly on the image of my mom on the sofa.

I sat there for about a minute, not moving, staring at the image of my mom and my handiwork. It was a mess.

A knock came at the door.

"Randy?" mom called.

I panicked. Had I locked the door? I couldn't let mom come in and see what I was doing. Or see the photo of herself.

Thank goodness, she didn't come in after the knock.

"I'm getting changed, mom," I called out. My voice was shaking, and I hoped she didn't hear it. "Can you wait a sec?"

"No need to come out. I just wanted to say good night. I'm going to bed early. Good night!"

"Good night, mom."

The emergency was averted. My heart was racing. What if mom had opened the door and come in? I didn't want to think about it.

I hadn't moved. I was still sitting on the chair with my cock in my hand and the cum-splattered photo of my mom on the screen.

What a weird day, I thought.

All I could think about was my mom.

My mom is a hot mom, I thought. Holy shit, she is hot.

At that point, my still-hard cock in my hand and my cum sprayed all over and dripping down the high-resolution image of my mom blown up on my computer monitor screen, I had no idea where all this was going to go. I watched a drop of cum dribble down the screen and stop right over the exposed junction between her legs in the image. It obscured my view of mom's pussy.