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Mom Poses Nude

by Mikelh 11/12/02

Ralph watched her all the time. "She's the one," he thought. She was the one he would finally possess. After all, she loved him didn't she? She smiled at him and greeted him every morning...not like those other stuck-up bitches. He would fix up the basement apartment and she would come and live with him...it was all settled. Only Eleanor had no idea how she fit in with the plans of the smiling man from maintenance.

To Ralph, he and Eleanor Grant had been 'together' since she first came to Eastern University in the fall of '82. A few kind words from a friendly girl had become much more. He followed her to the dorms every night to protect her, he watched at the windows to catch a glimpse of her, he walked behind her to smell the perfume of her skin. Eight months passed and now it was time...she would be so happy with his plans.

He couldn't have picked a worse moment. Ellie had just broken up with her boyfriend of two years and found out she was pregnant. Coming up behind her in the night and saying all those crazy things frightened her. The more she tried to get away, the more he shouted and tried to explain. The more she tried to get away the more he grabbed at her...pawing at the body he coveted. When she finally started screaming, his efforts to quiet her succeeded only after he stuck her with a penknife in the back. At the moment of impact, she had turned to protect the child only she knew she was carrying. Fortunately her screams brought two couples that had been smoking behind the dorms. The man was chased down and held until the police arrived.

The physical wound healed and left her; the feelings did not. Ralph was sentenced to five years and Eleanor Grant spent the next nineteen years uneasy and distrustful of men. She never married but with the help of friends and scholarships she was able to get her degree and bring up her son in a loving environment. Every spare moment was spent with Connor: teaching him, talking to him, loving him. He was her only outlet for physical contact. Even through his adolescence, she doted on him and Connor didn't seem to mind. They became each other's source of pleasure.

It was sexual from early on even if neither of them thought about it that way. As he grew to manhood, they had looked to each other for everything, why wouldn't they be impelled toward each to satisfy the strongest of urges? Even their fantasies meshed. Not a perfect puzzle interlock, but close enough.

Connor loved to draw; he was good at it. He made his world the way he wanted it to be. The drawings of his mother eventually became nudes. There could be no doubt that it was Ellie. Anyone would recognize the face; the body he'd drawn from stolen glances and his imaginings. She never saw the early works because he tore them up after they served their purpose. For Connor his mother would come alive off the page. She would come to him, kiss his lips, his chest and slowly down to his hard waiting cock. He imagined himself towering above her, looking down into the sparkling gray eyes just before she took him into her mouth.

Ellie...on her knees before him in his fantasy work...so many times he had imagined what it would actually feel like...his mother's soft mouth closed around the width of his cock... licking...sucking...loving her son.

And how many times had it been Ellie with her legs opened...in her fantasy...with her son over her and then in her...holding her...protecting her? It was almost impossible to tell who had sent the first signal to the other; whose breath had caught first at the sight of the other or whose dark desire had been ignited first into raging sexual fires.

It was clear when one looked at the two of them together; they fit. At five–eleven and about 125 pounds, Eleanor was imposing. Her brunette hair cascaded to her shoulders and to the top of her breasts...beautifully formed breasts that at times, seem so full they might be swollen with milk. Her fullness as a woman only intensified the beauty she possessed as a girl. Her small waist and long legs accentuated all the places most eyes are almost involuntarily drawn to. In any case it wouldn't have been easy for a woman like that to find a man to hold her in the special way she wanted to be held.

Connor looked liked she wanted him to look. He was taller and stronger and she knew she could lose herself in his arms. Even when he was younger it brought her comfort to make herself small and be enfolded in that place where she felt safe. All the girls, and later the women he had gone out with always felt he could protect them. For Ellie that feeling was paramount.

Eleanor Grant became a part-time lecturer in literature at Community College. It was a proud day for her when her son joined her at the school to study art. Connor's facility for drawing was nurtured from childhood by Ellie with praise and lessons. He had drawn and painted his mother countless times over the years but she had never actually sat for him. When his second year term project was coming due, he agonized about asking her to help him. Finally he said, "Mom, would you be insulted if I asked you to pose for me? I can't think of anything more beautiful to paint than you."

Eleanor wasn't quite sure why he would think she would be insulted but she dismissed the thought and was touched. She said, "That's so sweet love...I would love to be your model."

When the day came for her first sitting she was caught unaware when Connor handed her a diaphanous draping that would conceal very little. He saw his mother's surprise and started to stammer. "Oh mom...I thought you understood...I'm sorry... I shouldn't have...it's okay if you don't feel like it."

Eleanor prided herself on being open and not fettered by the restrictive ideas of normative society. The leather-clad student riding on her Vincent Black Lightening was still part of her.

She told Connor "It's fine honey...I didn't think I'd be wearing anything." She laughed and went to put on the drapery. When she returned and sat, her son went over and tentatively arranged her. He left the material only one layer thick above her waist and exposed one of his mother's breasts. He told her she could have modeled for Michelangelo and it warmed her. During the hours she sat, in comfortable partial nudity, she came to a deepened understanding of Connor's talent and feelings for her. She couldn't help but notice the effect she was having on him.

Constant attention to his mother's exposed breast and thinly veiled curves deepened his awe of her beauty and his burgeoning desires. Emboldened, he asked her to rouge her nipple. He watched as she applied the makeup and saw it redden and become erect. He imagined his mouth on it, drawing on it, sucking it in with some of the sweet flesh behind it.

As he painted, he was drawn to the light: the light that reflected off the planes of his mother's draped body and the light that seemed to glow from under her translucent skin. He traced the line of her still upturned breast over the erect nipple with his eyes hundreds of times; she felt each look as if his fingers were caressing the rubbery tips.

His desires ended up on the canvas. It was evident in every curve of his mother's body; curves that viewers could easily imagine themselves running their hand over. As he painted, he wondered about the never seen haven between her legs and she wondered about the feelings... the wanting...and consequences. He wanted to put the brush down and walk over to her, tell her he loved her and kiss her lips as she tilted her head back and welcomed him. He wanted to reach between her legs and touch her sex that would hopefully be wet for him...he wanted...but he kept on painting. They talked about art and literature for hours and they both thought about the unthinkable.

And so, it wasn't that surprising that Connor ended up in his mother's bed on a particular Saturday night shortly thereafter. It could all be seen as the result of an almost natural progression of causes with a decidedly unconventional effect. Events in one short week tripped over each other to get them to where they ended up.

Of course causes are complicated and these had long histories. Their mutual attraction had become evident over the years. She had often teased and flirted about having a boyfriend like him and he never let an opportunity go by to tell her how sexy she looked. He'd even once said that she looked like she would be good enough to eat...if she wasn't his mother...all to her laughing delight.

The Sunday before it happened, they had moved into a new apartment. It was only partially furnished because some of the furniture wasn't delivered due to a mix-up. She asked him not to go out that night because she didn't want to spend the first night alone and she was feeling uneasy. He stayed with her.

One bed...she said it was 'silly' for him to sleep on the couch. More than one time that night he ended up hard against her; nothing was said about it. The first thing she did in the morning was to give him one too many kisses to thank him for being there when she needed him. Connor ended up hard again and Ellie knew it. She even made light of it by remarking, "Some woman is going to be very happy with that 'grand' reception in the morning."

She made dinner that night and dressed up to celebrate their new place. She wore a sheer, low–cut thing that had his eyes massaging her curves all night. A few days later they re-arranged some of the new furniture. When they finished, her 'aching' back needed massaging. She bared it as his hands ran over her warm velvety skin and then roamed to the sides of her braless breasts. He breathed hard as he touched the forbidden flesh. Each time his fingers made contact she made a small closed mouthed sound of pleasure.

On Thursday, she was lonely and needed holding. He held her and felt every inch of her against him. He touched her almost where he wanted to and told her how much she meant to him.

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