My Mom is a Hot Mom Ch. 03

"Well hi, Tucker," she said.

"Hi, Mrs. Crowley," said Tucker, his voice bursting with nervous eagerness.

"I'm going by my maiden name now, Tucker. It's Lund. But you know, you're an adult now, so you can call me 'Inga' if you like."

"Oh, I didn't know that. Sorry. Ms. Lund. Inga. Hmmm. I'm not sure about the first name thing, yet. I'll stick with 'Ms. Lund' if that's O.K. That's Norwegian, right?"

"Yah, it shore is," she said with a caricature of an accent, and flashed him a big smile. She took her glasses off and I guessed her green eyes distracted him for a second or two from staring at her exposed body. But probably not for longer than that. I knew the effect that seeing my mom dressed -- or, undressed, really -- like this was having on him. In the past, it would have bothered me. But not now. I was spending all my time thinking about how hot my mom was, and I now it turned me on to imagine Tucker thinking about her that way, too.

I didn't have to imagine it. His tongue practically was hanging out of his mouth.

Tucker was a nerd. He was a couple inches shorter than I was. He was physically lazy, and already had the beginning of a pot belly, and he had curly hair and wore thick dark glasses. But he talked a mile a minute, and had a kind of nerd charm that sometimes worked with the ladies. Last May he had sweet-talked his way into Kendra Kowalski's skirt, and he had been bragging about it to us all summer.

But now, in front of my mom, he was tongue-tied.

"What brings you here, Tucker?" she asked him sweetly.

"Oh, just dropping this off," he said, and he held the DVD up in front of him. "Randy let me borrow some . . . uh . . . class notes he saved to this . . . uh . . . DVD."

"I didn't know you were taking any classes together," she said, in a way that suggested she might be skeptical of Tucker's description of the DVD's contents.

"I was . . . auditing a class he's taking," Tucker replied. "To see if I wanted to take it."

"Well, it's nice to see you working together," she said. She shifted her legs in the recliner as she said it. She crossed her far, bent leg over the near one, and as she lay talking to us she moved the shoe on the foot of her far leg slowly up and down the calf of the other leg, as though to scratch an itch. Then she put the leg back on the other side, unbending and stretching out the leg nearer us and bending and raising her knee on the other leg still higher. The effect was to reveal more of the incredibly small red triangle of the bikini bottom to us.

"Are you going to stick around for a swim, Tucker?" she asked.

I didn't know what had gotten into my mom. I could swear she was showing off for him. Discreetly, not lasciviously, but it sure looked like she was showing off. She had to know the effect her movements were having on the way her body was exposed to us. I had never see her do anything like that before. Poor Tucker. He didn't say anything.

"No, Tucker has to leave," I said. "He's got some stuff to do, and he didn't bring a suit."

Tucker glared at me. I knew he was thinking I could have volunteered one of my suits. But I had other plans for the day, and he wasn't part of the plans. I wanted mom in her skimpy bikini for myself.

"It's been nice to see you, Tucker. Come by again soon," mom said.

"I will, thanks," he managed to say after getting his voice back. "See you later Mrs. C --- I mean, Ms. Lund."

Tucker and I walked into the house through the back door. I offered him a cold drink from the fridge.

"Randy," Tucker said. "I don't need a cold drink. I need a cold shower."

Instead of walking to the front door, he walked over to the big window in the living room that faced the back yard. He stared back at my mom, now lying back on the lounge chair with her sunglasses on, sideways to us.

"Your mom's Norwegian," he said. "That figures."

"Why is that?" I asked him.

"Norwegians are hot. Like, what's Norway offer? Fjords, and snow, and hot babes. I've said it before, Randy, but you have the hottest mom on the planet. I mean, holy shit. 'Inga.' She should be captain of the Norwegian MILF bikini team."

In the past, his words would have bothered me. They didn't now, but I wasn't going to let him know that. I acted like I was upset.

"Come on, Tucker, that's my mom."

"I know, man, but you're a guy, too, and she's a beautiful woman. Look at those abs, I could bounce quarters all day off those abs. And her toes. The nail polish matches the red suit. I could suck on those toes all day like popsicles."

"Tucker!" I said, acting like I was getting mad.

"Sorry, sorry," he said. "I know you've always been a little touchy about that. But you are a lucky guy."

He kept staring at her through the window.

"So, Randy, do you ever think about it?"

"Uh, think about what?"

"You know," he said, working up a sly smile. "You're single. Your mom's single. Divorced. Lonely. You're both adults. Ever think about you and your mom ---"

"Tucker, stop. No, I do not think about her that way."

"O.K., O.K., no need to get mad," he said. "It's just . . . I can't imagine what it would be like every day to wake up to a mom who looks like a super model. A super fitness model. Those abs. Shit. And look at the muscle tone on those legs."

"Tucker --"

He stopped for a minute but didn't stop staring.

"I think it's time to move on, bud," I said.

He was squinting his eyes and pursing his lips like his mind was furiously working up a scheme of some kind.

"Does your mom like younger guys? I mean, if you're not going to make a play, maybe I could give her a call and --"

"Tucker, no," I said firmly with fake impatience. I was enjoying watching the effect my mom had on Tucker, but I was determined not to show it. "My mom is totally out your league, buddy."

"That is for sure," he said with a resigned sigh and turned to the front door. "O.K., I'm out of here. Thanks for the videos." He glanced back at mom through the window. "And the social visit."

I closed the door on Tucker and walked back to the living room, the large picture window framing the backyard with mom in the little red bikini in the center of the picture. My first thought was to go back to the poolside and resume spreading sun screen on mom's body. But mom already was turned over and reading a book again.

I got a different idea. There was something sort of thrilling about watching mom through the window without her knowing I was watching her. Thrilling in a different way from watching her while standing right in front of her. Lying on the lounge chair, mom and her body were fully on display for me, standing where I was. I focused on the window glass. It looked like it had been cleaned recently. It was clear, without smudges. Mom was engrossed in her book and had no idea I was looking at her.

I ran to my room. I grabbed my DSLR camera. I also grabbed a zoom lens that I'd bought at a bargain price from Best Deal as a return item by a disgruntled customer. I swapped the zoom lens for the regular lens, and I walked briskly back to the living room. I wanted to use the camera to zoom in on mom's body, without her seeing me, and I wanted to take photos of her in her bikini without her knowing it. I don't know why. I just wanted to do it.

But when I got back to the living room, mom no longer was lying on the lounge chair. She wasn't in the pool, either, or anywhere in the pool area, that I could see. Where was she?

Then I saw her figure walk from behind a bush, behind and to the left of the pool area. Mom was walking across the lawn. And she had gloves and garden shears in her hand!

It was odd. Mom liked gardening, and I'd seen her out in the garden in skimpy shorts and top, but I'd never seen her gardening in a bikini. Yet, there she was: walking around the yard almost naked looking for bushes to trim.

I had to get photos of her. I raised my camera, but before I could get the camera ready mom disappeared from view. She walked off to the left, to a part of the back yard that wasn't visible from the living room window because it was obscured by a clump of bushes.

Well, darn it, I thought. I wanted to take photos of mom gardening in her bikini, but she wasn't visible from where I stood.

I knew, however, that there was one place in the house from which I would be able to see that part of the yard, and see mom: her bedroom. I ran from the living room to her bedroom with my camera in hand.

On one wall of mom's bedroom a window opened onto a part of the backyard I could not see from the living room. When I got to mom's room I slowed quickly and sidled up slowly to the edge of the window. I wanted to see mom, but I didn't want her to see me.

I saw her. Ah, did I see her. She was turned away from me, on all fours, at the edge of the lawn, using the shears to clip dead flowers from a late-blooming bush.

She probably crouched about 50 feet away from me in a direct line. I put my camera to my eye and focused the zoom lens, zooming in slowly and carefully on mom's firm, sculpted, and bikini-clad butt. From this angle, mom's butt rose high in the air, and the tiny red bikini stretched thinly and tightly against her round, gym-sculpted behind.

I pushed the button to take several photos, zooming the lens in as much on mom's butt as I could while maintaining good exposure and focus.

Mom stood up from that position. She dumped the dead flower heads into a little pile in one place in the garden bed. I wondered what she would do next in the garden. My camera was ready to capture her, magnificent in the red and tiny bikini.

She didn't do anything at first. Instead, she looked around the yard. I saw her looking toward the backyard fence at various places. She wasn't looking at plants. I wondered what she was doing. It looked like she was trying to figure out if anyone could see her.

Then I saw her set the shears and the gloves on the garden bed just off the edge of the grass. And then she stood straight up and put her hands behind her back. Her hands worked at the red tie of her bikini top.

Mom removed her bikini top and pulled it off her and over her head. Then she dropped it to the garden bed next to the shears and the gloves, which she put back on.

Mom was going to do her gardening in the back yard, topless.

I watched through the window, fascinated, my camera down at my side. I was so struck by what mom was doing that at first I couldn't even think about taking photos of her. With her pert, firm breasts unfettered, the tiny red bottom was the only thing covering her body, and it barely covered her. Mom turned away from me, showing off her thick blonde hair spilling down her bare back, and the firm, mostly uncovered butt cheeks. I remembered my camera, finally. I pulled it up to my eye, zoomed in on mom's body with the adjustable lens, and started snapping photos.

She turned halfway toward me again, and now I saw her nearly nude body in profile. Mom's boobs weren't huge, but they looked bigger than they were jutting out from her slender frame. They showed little sag, and through the zoom lens I easily saw the erect, pink thimbles of her nipples standing out straight and saucy.

I don't know why mom had decided to trim the bushes topless, but it was one of the most exciting things I'd ever seen. And the excitement was heightened by the utter nonchalance mom seemed to show being almost naked in the back yard shearing leaves off bushes. She went about her business like it was a perfectly normal thing to do.

She bent over to cut off some greenery closer to the ground, and I watched mesmerized through the lens as the firm mounds of her boobs hung down from her body. Gravity pulled them down. I imagined myself sitting on the garden bed, underneath her, my mouth open and waiting to accept her hanging tits with my lips and tongue.

Then she squatted to cut some dead flowers off the bottom of a bush. She squatted low, with her butt almost on her feet, and her knees spread wide open. I zoomed in still more to get a closeup of the red bikini bottom stretched tightly over the flesh between her legs. I snapped several more photos of her.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I held on to the camera with one hand, but with the other I pushed my shorts down until my cock sprang loose. I seized it and started stroking. My mind was in an erotic frenzy over my mom, whose every action seemed to be driving me crazy with voyeuristic lust. I looked down at my cock and felt how hard it was, squeezed between my fingers. Already, precum was flowing from the tip, and the extra lubrication made me harder still.

I must have gotten distracted by what I was doing for a couple of minutes, because when I looked back out the window mom wasn't there. Where had she gone? I wondered.

I heard the back door open and bang shut, suddenly. Then, I heard mom's wedge sandals on the floor. I could tell she was coming this way.

Shit, I thought. I looked around frantically. In less than 20 seconds mom would be coming through the bedroom door, and she'd see me standing next to her bedroom window with my erect dick in one hand and my camera with zoom lens in the other. Even a dummy would know exactly what I had been doing, and mom was no dummy. There was no exit from the bedroom other than the bedroom door, and I didn't want mom to see me running out of her room with the camera.

I looked to the bathroom. I could try to hide in there, but mom probably would go in there to shower or take a leak, and if she did she would see me, and I didn't know how I'd explain that.

I turned every which way. I heard her footsteps. I had no time left to decide what to do.

I saw the bed. It was my only option. I ducked down and pushed myself under it. In the cramped space, I turned around and pulled myself back from the edge of the bed just as I saw mom's bare legs and sandal-clad feet enter her room.

The bed was king-sized, a holdover from the marriage, so it offered plenty of room to hide. A thick cotton skirt hung down over the bottom mattress, to within a few inches above the floor. If I was very quiet and kept my face and limbs away from the edge, there was an excellent chance that mom wouldn't see me. If she went into the bathroom, I might be able to make a quick escape without her ever knowing I had been in her room.

From my view point under the bed, I couldn't see any of mom above her calves. She kicked off her sandals. Then she walked to the bathroom. I was hopeful she would go in and take a shower and give me a chance to get away.

But she didn't go in the bathroom. She opened the bathroom door and pulled it back. The inside of the door was covered by a full-length mirror, and mom pulled the door back far enough that I could see the reflection of her legs and feet in it.

She just stood there. I couldn't tell what she was doing with her upper body, so I moved my face a little closer to the edge of the bed. Her upper thighs and the bikini bottom came into view. Mom stood with her butt toward me and her legs apart, and I had a great view of the red fabric narrowing as it descended over her butt cheeks and gathered in a thin strip in the delicious gap between her thighs. Before I could take stock of what I was seeing I saw the bikini top drop to the floor. Then I saw a hand reach down to her hip bone and draw quickly on the string tied there. The knot untied at once with a fast pull, and then the bikini bottom dropped to the floor at her feet next to the top.

Mom stood naked in front of the mirror. Her position and the angle of the mirror gave me two views at once of her pussy. I could just make out the shadowy slit between her legs from behind and underneath, and I could see the front of her pussy reflected in the mirror as well, with a trim patch of blondish hair lying right over it.

It was like a fantasy, seeing my mom like that. I felt a little guilty spying on her from under the bed, but my guilt was overwhelmed by the joy and arousal of seeing her exposed, nude body. Then the fantasy became even better, because the hand at mom's side moved to her front, and she toyed with her pussy with two fingers. At first, she held the fingers together and rubbed them over the nub of her clit, but then she moved them down into the flesh of her lips. I had to adjust myself slightly, as quietly as I could, because my cock was uncomfortably hard between my body and the bedroom floor.

Then mom moved away from the mirror, and I saw her bare legs walking around the side of the bed. I heard a drawer to her nightstand being opened, and I felt the mattress shake, like she was moving the bed covers around. Mom's legs walked back to the mirror. I saw a pillow drop to the floor. And then, wonder of wonders, I saw mom sit down on the floor, facing the mirror, her back to the pillow. And she spread her legs. I kept far enough under the bed that I couldn't see her face, but I saw her holding a slender pink rod in one hand, with a bulb at one end. It was a vibrator. I heard it begin buzzing when she turned it on.

Mom was going to masturbate in front of the mirror, and I was going to watch.

It was a tricky angle, because her back was to me, but I could see her pussy reflected in the mirror through her bent, open legs. It was the best view of it I'd had yet. Mom kept a patch of hair over her clit, but the lips of the pussy themselves had been shaved, so nothing was obscured. The outer lips, bare and gently mounded, framed her slit. She held the vibrator above her pussy, and I saw her push it down slowly on and past the clit until it dipped into the tender flesh beneath. Then the pink bulb dipped further, fully inside her, and her lips closed over it.

She held it like that for a full minute, and I heard the buzz grow louder when she must have adjusted a setting on the vibrator. Mom started rocking the head of the vibrator in and out of her, and I saw the thin lips of her pussy rise and fall like waves over the pink bulbous head.

I was excited and aroused beyond belief, but I couldn't do anything about it. My crotch was pressed against the floor, leaving me no room to stroke myself. And even if I had had room, I could not have started masturbating without risk of exposing myself to mom. I couldn't do that, no matter how great my need.

I could hear mom panting over the steady buzz of the vibrator, and her spread legs occasionally twitched or jerked this way or that. She arched her back against the pillow, and she put a hand, the one without the vibrator in it, in back of her on the floor to hold her up.

Slowly, and as quietly as I could, I pulled my camera in front of my face, and I focused the lens on mom. I was so close to her, and the zoom lens so powerful, that the view through the lens was blurry at first, but I adjusted the lens until the view was clear. Once I did that, I could see mom's pussy in the most amazing, intimate detail -- the thin, inner lips stretched over the vibrator head, the film of moisture that framed her opening, and even a little milky fluid gathering at the lower edge of her pussy and beginning to flow down the skin between her lean legs.

Then mom lowered her arched back and set her shoulders against the pillow. She raised her feet, which had been set on the ground with her toes pointed. She put her legs in the air, still holding them spread open as before.

By lying back and holding her legs in the air, mom exposed more of the area between her legs, until the puckered star of her anus came into my view. The hand that had supported her when she was sitting up and leaning back went to her butt cheek, and in the mirror I saw fingers pressing forward from the side of her ass toward her asshole. She snaked a single finger toward its destination until the tip rested right on the hole and began tracing tiny circles around it.