A New Perspective

She grinned, and I ran out of numbers to describe my heart-rate, "You're slowing up with all that college time!"

I moved on autopilot, already a step beyond the heaven that I had scarcely dared dream of, "Just bluffing," I managed, lunging forward.

As mom squealed and my eyes moved to within a few inches of the heaven that was on display I saw, for the first time, the cups of her bra gently supporting her average but perfect breasts. A bra that, while not as sheer as the one in her drawer upstairs, was far from opaque. I could see my mom's nipples, hard and pink, with almost perfect clarity. Somehow, I still managed to attempt a tickle of her ribs.

"No fair!" she giggled, still seemingly unaware of the blouse's wide gape, and very, very unaware of the effect it was having on a certain part of my anatomy.

I was used to successes in my life -- in the schoolroom and even on the sports field -- but nothing I had achieved to date had brought about quite the sense of achievement that I was feeling right then. I doubt whether it sounds like very much to you, but as thrusts, blocks and tickles were swapped, all to the accompaniment of that stunning view, I was in an almost trance-like state of mega-success.

So trance-like, I guess, that I let my gaze linger longer and longer on that flimsy bra, and the firm flesh it contained.

"Oh, god, Gordy!" she squealed as the realised how her blouse was gaping. She grabbed the front and pulled it together, backing off from the scrum, "I am so sorry! How embarrassing!"

My mind was still trance-like. "It's okay, mom, honest." I should have left it there, but that trance state was knocking sixty points off my IQ. "Really, honest. Better than okay, in fact."

Mom's gasp was full of shock but there was an odd tremor as she protested, "Gordon! I'm your mother, so less of that sort of thing, please."

"Oh mom, sorry," I managed when I realised what I'd said, "It's just... I guess it-"

"You guess it was all just a shock, right?" she tried to help, still standing there with one hand holding the rigged garment pulled shut.

"Yeah, that's it. Shock." The trance persisted, "And the fact that you've got great-"

"Gordon!"

"Sorry. Shit... I mean sorry for that too. I mean... What do I mean? Oh yeah. Just like sorry mom, but yeah, shock." So no noble prizes for that speech then.

It did however seem to placate my mom, "I guess it is rather unusual, but.. well, anyway, I'm going to go and change, and I'd use the time to get your head straight, Gordy, okay?"

"Yeah," I managed, trying not to calculate whether I would have enough time with her gone to get a little wrist exercise in.

In the end I thought that taking that sort of chance would be possibly counter-productive and so spent the time congratulating myself on achieving so much (to me -- bear with me here) at my very first attempt. I knew -- just knew -- that the sight of mom's tits inside that flimsy bra would stay with me for a long, long time, and I was still wondering vaguely about how many fantasies they would star in when mom reappeared.

Now the more sensible among you might well have realised that I had created a problem for myself here. It wasn't the monster (well, a guy can dream) erection that was threatening to drain all the blood from my vital organs, because that had been dealt with by loose track pants and some hasty rearrangement while my mom was changing. Oh, no, it was nothing that obvious to me.

Mom had changed blouses and I still didn't realise what a problem there was likely to be when she offered me a placatory smile and said, "Better now?"

"What? Oh, right, I mean yes." I paused and when she lifted an eyebrow, finally got the message, "Oh, and sorry. For staring like that I mean. It was just.. .like you said, shock."

She gave a rueful chuckle, "What? That your mom has a pair?"

"No!" She was flustering me again and knew it.

"Gordy, relax. Accidents will happen and I guess you're at the age when any pair will cause a reaction, right?" As well as flustering me, she was offering me a get-out.

"Um, yeah. I guess that's right, mom." I felt happier, more convinced that any paranoia I had about her possibly suspecting anything was just plain silly. Then she reached up for a coffee mug.

"Fancy one?" she asked me as the top button of the second doctored blouse popped off, un-noticed by her.

"Do I!" It was out before I realised it and it was only when mom took a mug and turned towards the kettle when I realised that she didn't see anything odd in my answer because to her it had an entirely different meaning.

I also realised that when she noticed what had happened with this blouse I was likely to be shot. And yet... And yet, I had to have one last peek before I tried to work out what the fuck I was going to do next. "Need a hand, mom?"

She turned and smiled, "No you're alright there, Gordy."

If it had just been the smile I received, I might have been okay. But I also received a perfect view of mom's right, bra-clad breast, its nipple hard and oh so very obvious. What can I tell you? I stared.

"If there's any fresh coffee in the larder," mom continued, "you could go get that for..." her voice trailed off and I glanced up at her face at last.

With infinite care, mom set the mug on the counter to her right and stared down at her gaping blouse. The second gaping blouse. She didn't even cover up as her head rose and she fixed me with a stare who's look I plain couldn't interpret.

"Gordon? I... I don't know what this means, but I don't believe in coincidences as you very well know. Is this going to happen every time I put on a blouse now?" Her voice began to rise slowly. It was like one of those NASA space ships that rose just a few feet in the first few seconds before getting faster and higher... "Have you been away at college learning to be a total perv? Have you got to the point where your next step is to just rip... just look at whatever you want? Even if it's sick and disgusting? You like this view so much you'd risk alienating me forever? You want to see your little mom's tits that bad, huh, Gordon?" She took a step forward, thrusting her bra-clad breasts accusingly at me, "Is that it, Gordon, huh? You reached an age where any pair will get your rocks off, even my little ones? Even at the risk of battering down taboos and pissing me off royally? You want to see my pussy as well, huh, Gordon?" She started to fumble at the waistband of her skirt and I was truly, deeply alarmed. This was way too scary and nothing like my mom, "Hey, Gordon? You answer me now, You want to see my pussy, huh? You want to see mom's pussy..." Her fingers couldn't get the zip undone -- thankfully, by now, "You already seen my tits so that only leaves my pussy, right? You want to see that as well, huh? Mom's tits, mom's pussy. Mom's cunt, okay Gordon?"

Just as her voice reached a pitch where I was thinking that maybe the neighbors could hear -- maybe the Feds five hundred miles away -- mom gave a grunt of frustration as a nail broke on the skirt's zipper, and she dashed from the room.

In the wake of her rage and departure I just stood there. It was a full couple of minutes before I realised that I was still as hard as a rock, despite the fact that my brain was trying to tell me that I had fucked up big time. That there was no going back from this one.

If I tried to tell you that my next step was motivated entirely by my wanting to placate my mom, to comfort her, even, I would love you to believe me. I would love me to believe me. One of the few things I did right up to that point was understand that I needed to talk to mom before this thing festered -- a process that could take mere minutes -- and I needed, above all else, to apologise and come clean. The blast damage was a long way from settled -- would probably never settle -- but I just had to do that much at least.

Knowing something should be done and actually doing it are very different matters, but somehow I managed to get myself upstairs and stood outside mom's bedroom door. I blanked my mind.

"Mom? I am so sorry. Truly. Deeply. I admit it all and if I could take it all back I would, I swear. I just... I just don't know. I only did it to those two tops, but I'm not sure I even know why really. I mean other than the obvious -- I'm a total 'tard. I just... mom? You there?" A perfume bottle or similar hit the woodwork. Reassured, I bumbled on, "Mom, I just... I never expected... no, I mean I never realised just how good you look and... and what? And it was like 'You never knew, idiot' and I was all, I know it's wrong and bad and all that sh.. stuff, but it was like mom's so fit and cute and I just... oh shit, mom, I'm sorry, okay? I just didn't know and now that I did I just wanted... just wanted ain't right, I know that, but I swear, swear on anything that I never meant to upset you... I just needed to see... no... I needed you to understand that I appreciate you as more than just a mom." That last comment surprised even me, and the slightly more desultory note that sounded when the next bottle hit the door indicated that I might finally have said something that, while still crass, was at least vaguely intelligent. Of course, the moron in me came racing to the surface, "Yeah, that's it really. I needed you to know that you're not only a great mom but you're a gorgeous woman, you have the most fantastic-" The next bottle hit the door so hard I thought shards would come through.

Shards didn't but mom's voice certainly did, "Gordon! Just fuck off!"

Trance state or not, I fucked off.

It was close on twenty four hours later before I dared to return. Twenty four hours, most of which were spent wringing my hands (and both brain cells), and trying to come up with an apology worthy of the name. And trying oh so hard not to remember how that flimsy material had looked. I failed on all counts.

I had thought that mom would be out at her normal gym session when I got home, and sure enough the house was in darkness despite the gathering gloom. My plan was to dash in, re-pack the bag I'd brought home from college, and leave a hasty but heart-felt apology note for mom to find. The note was probably going to be less welcome than my corpse, but my bravery levels were at an all-time low.

I sneaked in despite the gloom and the silence, and made my way upstairs to my room. With infinite, and somewhat pointless, care, I laid the larger of my packs on the bed and pulled open my t-shirt drawer. I picked up a stack of over-colored and over-priced rock concert shirts and turned to the bed. I squealed. "Hello, Gordy."

Mom was sitting there in her usual blouse and skirt, her face a picture of neutrality.

"Before you say anything," she went on, "Or try to, at least, I just want you to know that I'm sorry about yesterday. That was a complete over-reaction, and I guess we were both in shock. Can we put it down to silly hormones and all part of growing up and mature acceptance?"

When I finally found my voice it still took a while to work out what my mom actually meant, "You're saying that... your forgive me?"

"If you want to put it like that, yes, although I would say it was closer to me coming to an acceptance of your youthful masculine traits."

"My youthful..."

"Your horniness, yes.

Could this really be happening, "But mom, what I did was like totally-"

"Unacceptable on most levels, yes, but that," mom paused and gave a wry smile, "that is not the same thing as not out of character for someone your age, or even the same as unnatural."

"But you clothes.. that was so perv-"

"Shush, Gordy. You may be many things but that's not one of them. What you did was -- method aside -- not so unusual, apparently, and I suppose it would only be fair of me to say that... for all that you got a kick out of seeing me like that... well, let's just say that no woman would ever be too upset not to appreciate a compliment on one level or another."

"I'm not sure I know what you mean."

Mom looked hard at me for a few moments before replying, "You're not fishing for anything, are you? What I mean, Gordy, is that there's a part of me that's flattered you went to so much trouble to steal a tiny peek at me, especially as all that trouble was spent just to see me in underwear still."

"I really am sorry, mom, I-"

"Oh, shush! I'm trying to tell you here that you're off the hook. Forgiven. That if I was totally and absolutely honest about it all, that I'm feeling a little flattered, okay?"

"Well, yes, I guess."

"Good guess. All that trouble you must have gone to just for a peek of a bra."

"You're not joking, mom, are you?"

"No, Gordy, I'm not."

"So you won't scream if I say all that trouble as you put it, was just because you really are worth it"

"I'll let you off that comment this time, but no more, okay?"

"Sorry, mom."

"Good. Mom is the operative word here, right? And not the phrase 'all that trouble'."

Mr trance was making a comeback, "It was a lot of trouble, but I hope that you know - just one last comment and no more, I promise -- know that it was worth it for me. No more though, I promise." I meant it.

Mom gave me a long, hard look and then nodded, "As long as you mean it."

"I do, mom."

"Good." She walked to the hallway and then paused and looked back, "In that case can you fix the bathroom door before you come and get a coffee? I don't want you changing your mind in a day or two and bursting in to get a better look at my tits."

Far from that last remark being the start of more complaining -- justifiable, of course -- it marked the beginning of a change in mom's attitude to me that was entirely positive. During the next few days she treated me less like her 'little Gordy' and much more like a grown up. We even watched a couple of episodes of Sex in the City and talked properly about attitudes to nudity on television (with surprisingly similar views).

Here's the thing though. Every time the conversation turned towards matters sexual, or we watched re-runs of a soft-porn comedy (oh, come on girls, SitC is), I got aroused. Very. And it was because of mom. As much as 'the incident' was pushed behind us, I kept getting flashes (pun intended) wandering through my mind. I hadn't masturbated so much since I was in my mid-teens and the woman next door didn't believe in bedroom curtains (she wasn't fit, but man.. those tits...). Anyway, mom was acting entirely as usual other than treating me as a young adult rather than an old child.

So it was that a comment from her, a question rather, on the first Sunday home, blind-sided me.

"Gordy... you really don't have to answer this, but... I know it's a subject we agreed not to mention again, but it's been bugging me... I want... almost need... to know something."

"Mom?"

"Shush or I'll never manage this. Gordy.. can you tell me why you went to such lengths to sneak a peek at me? I mean -- let me finish here and apologies but I just have to work it out -- I mean is it just because you knew that it was so... taboo, or naughty or whatever. I mean, me of all people... I guess what I'm trying to ask is why me?"

I couldn't not answer honestly after all that, could I? Besides, I suddenly realised that this is what I should have said all along, "Mom, no... all that taboo stuff is just... well, okay it's there sure enough, but that's not why I felt like I had to take such a stupid chance. I wondered at first but no, it's just that... dammit mom I need to swear here so just let me have this one, right? It's just that you are so fucking cute and sure, there's all that shock-horror stuff about the whole mom-son thing, but I swear, mom, that for me, the only big thing about us being related was that I'd missed so many opportunities over the years -- like I'd missed realising just how fit you are."

Mom's mouth gaped open and I could see a hundred emotions a minute passing through her eyes. I had almost convinced myself that I had screwed up again with my big mouth when she gave a little cough and shook her head, "Gordy? I never, ever, ever, should let you hear this really, but... that's so lovely. Thank you."

She shot out of her chair and dashed from the room. And apparently out of my life for ever -- the front door slammed a couple of minutes later, shortly followed by the over-revving of the Honda's engine and a squeal of tires. It was the last I saw of mom.

More to the point it was the last I saw of that mom. I was just finishing off a paper on... no, you don't need to know that, trust me... just finishing off a paper the next day when I heard the car outside, shortly followed by the front door opening. An entirely new version of my mom, Allie, walked into the kitchen.

"Sorry I stayed out all night, Gordy, but I had to get my head clear."

"I can understand that, but I did worry."

Mom filled the kettle and switched it on, "Now there's a role-swap if ever I heard one, but in any case, I'm sorry, I should have let you know at the very least." She took two mugs down and I risked a glance at her clothes -- a normal enough summery dress -- before listening to her obviously prepared words, "So much thinking. Things have changed, haven't they, Gordy? And like me, you didn't even realise. Well that's probably a good thing because it means that our habits and normal behaviour let us keep on like the majority of the herd. But then you went away and perspectives changed. I can get that, although for me I needed to see how your perspectives had changed before I allowed my own to alter." She poured hot water and stirred the mugs. "But here's the thing. You had a while -- a day at any rate, to get used to new perspectives and new feelings. Me? I had no time at all before I'm standing there in front of the new you with my clothes gaping and the evidence of the new you staring me in the face -- in the tits, even." She handed me a mug, "And you know what, Gordy? That few seconds was just not long enough to come to terms with new perspectives and sudden sensations. So I exploded. I've already said I'm sorry about that and I've even been selfish enough to bring the matter up again and get you telling me things I maybe never should have. But... and here's where I've been getting my hear together... but, Gordy... I think -- I'm almost one hundred percent positive, in fact -- that all the time I was yelling at you for being so bad and so pervy... all that time I was standing there wishing you really could have seen it all and .. .hell, Gordy, truth is king, right? I went to bed that night and I swear I never meant to but I got to thinking what if that tickling session had gone on longer, what if you'd doctored my skirt as well, what if it had been my bra as well, and Gordy, Gordy this is so hard for me but you have every right to know..." She took a deep breath and spoke too fast for gravity to slow her, "Gordy I imagined what it would have felt like if my bra had fallen away as we tickled each other, and Gordy, so help me I realised as I lay there thinking about it all that I was aroused! Not a little bit, not an echo of the old days when I used to get a buzz out of a bit of accidental exposure -- another time I'll tell you all -- but right then and there I was shivery aroused. I don't know if you even fully understand this yet, but I was tingling and slightly swollen and very, very wet -- about as aroused as I have ever been, and even though I fought against it -- tried to focus on how naughty, how bad it was to think that way -- about you, about my own flesh and blood -- even though I fought it for ages and ages... eventually I couldn't stop myself any longer. Gordy... I touched myself.. fingered myself... Gordy... I let myself masturbate thinking of you and the tickling and.. there? Okay? I climaxed thinking of us, and you had to know that I don't hate you for what happened, don't think any less of you at all, don't think that you are in any way perverted in your desires, and when yesterday you said, what was it? That you thought I was 'fucking cute'? Well let me tell you, that justified it all to me. And you know what else? I realised just how arousing it might have all been for you, and Gordy I loved it. I had to dash out of here so fast because you'd taken me from vaguely aroused to on the verge of climax with that line, and when I thought of how aroused you might have to have been to say such a thing to me... well, I had to get out of here before I exploded."