RAIN

I knew the perfect place. About seventy miles west of the city there was a farming and ranching community I'd discovered as a Boy Scout. It was a little town called Wessel, pronounced "vessel", since the name came from a German city near the Rhein River. It really wasn't much of a town, just the intersection of two Texas farm-to-market roads. Wessel had a convenience store with a few tables where a local could cool off with a Shiner Beer, a sleepy post office, and an ancient church with a cemetery and community center where once a month they held dances.

The area was dotted with fields of sorghum and corn and small ranches that ran a few dozen cattle. It was gently rolling country with frequent outcroppings of sandstone. Oak, pecan, and cedars grew in isolated islands among the green pastures and dark tilled earth. Most of the settlers to the area had been Germans and Czechs, migrating from Middle Europe in the 1870s, sprinkled in with Hispanics and blacks.

When we had a wet spring, the land was filled with wildflowers and would make a great backdrop for my photographs. Well, March had been wetter than usual. I looked on-line at a web site that charted wildflower blooming and saw that, as I hoped, Wessel would be in peak coloration during my spring break.

I got all my gear together the night before. I also had a bag of accessories. My last item was my grandfather's old .22 pistol. I didn't expect to run into any snakes, but it's always possible. Mom selected some outfits. I didn't know what she chose, feeling that there would be more spontaneity in my photographs this way. She also prepared a picnic basket so we were able to get an early start Saturday morning.

It was a pleasant drive out the interstate. The weather was beautiful, bright sunshine with mild temperatures. Traffic was light. We made good time. By 10:00 we were in Wessel.

"Where to?" mom asked as we sat at the intersection.

"Six of one, half a dozen of the other."

"My son, the leader." She turned left.

The road wound through gentle hills. It was a good road, well maintained with wide shoulders for the passage of farm equipment. I would have loved to drive it in a Camaro or Mustang convertible. Or a big motorcycle. Despite the soft springing of the family SUV, mom was even getting a thrill from throwing the vehicle around the curves, surging up the hills, diving into the small valleys.

Once we passed under a railroad overpass on which someone had spray painted a notice: 'Welcome to Hooterville.' I laughed at that and pointed it out to mom.

She said, "I didn't notice that, but did you see the highway sign for the overpass that said 'Watch out for water under bridge?'

"That's even better."

The road continued its sinuous ways. Mom was admiring the view while I was looking for the right photogenic spot.

"Whoa!" mom cried suddenly as we topped an incline. She braked quickly. The terrain had opened up before us, exposing a green swath of land that stretched from north to south. From our height, we could see for miles. Everywhere was the green with splotches of dark bluebonnets and small areas of bright Indian paintbrushes. These were about bloomed out, but ranged from orange to deep crimson. Stands of oak were darker. Black angus, beige longhorns, and red Herefords dotted the pastures.

"There to the right," I pointed. The flowers in that direction were thickest. A cattle tank, a bulldozed pond of water, glinted blue. Also, among a stand of tall pecan trees, there was an old barn faded by decades of weather and sun. "That looks perfect."

"I think you're right."

Mom followed the road till we got to a track leading across the pasture. It was protected by a cattleguard that rattled as we rode over it. On the fence post at the guard was a metal sign, only mildly perforated by bullet holes, saying that the property owner was a member of the Texas Cattleman's Association. There was a sign forbidding trespassing that mom ignored. It's an old Texas custom that if a rancher didn't want picnickers using his property, he put up a gate: gates are for people, cattleguards are livestock.

Mom took the track, driving slowly. Except for one well hung bull, the cattle we passed barely paid us any attention. They were healthy looking bovines with several calves sticking close to their mamas.

Before we got to the barn, we saw a two wheel path going off to the left. It didn't go far, but stopped a copse of trees. I asked mom to drive that way. She swung off the track and drove thirty yards or so. That brought us to the trees. Among them was the remains of a house. It was partially overgrown, but still showed a couple of stone walls and a hearth with chimney.

"Let's start here."

"All right," mom agreed. She stopped the vehicle and got out. I went around the back of the SUV and opened the tailgate. I pulled our bundles out and hefted the camera bag over my shoulder.

"I'm going to get some shots while you decide what you want to wear."

"OK. I have just the thing. No peeking while I change."

"Yep." I headed off to the ruins. The walls, what remained of them, were slabs of sandstone. The floor was of the same material. The fireplace was brick. Any roof had long ago rotted away. The building was maybe twenty feet square. If it had been subdivided into rooms, the interior walls had gone the way of the roof. It was surrounded by low scrub and cacti.

On the ground I found a long sturdy oak tree branch. I set down my camera bag, took out my pistol, and checked the bore after locking back the slide. Seeing that there were no obstructions, I dropped the slide on the loaded magazine, chambering the top cartridge, and pressed up the safety. Pistol in one hand, branch in the other, I thrashed about the scrub to drive away any snakes. After circling the building, I holstered the Colt pistol and set aside the stick.

I had two camera bodies, one a digital SLR and an older Pentax 35 mm single lens reflex, along with 5 lenses ranging from a 28x85 zoom to a fixed length 300 mm telephoto lens. The 35 mm camera was definitely old school, but I still like using it. Print film, for me, was simply fun to work with. I started with it and a moderately wide angle lens to get some perspective shots of the old ruins. Then I used the small zoom to get some shots of a few of the cacti that were in bloom,

By that time, my mother had changed out of her blouse and jeans into her first outfit. It was a simple plain yellow sundress with matching sandals. The dress had ruffled sleeves. a scoop neckline, and a full skirt. She carried a yellow bonnet and a white parasol that I'd brought along.

"Nice," I said, complimenting her. "Just watch where you step. This is prickly darn country."

"Oh, I don't mind a little prick now and then."

I saw my mom blush as she suddenly realized the double entendre. I was a little surprised by her comment. My mother's not one to make even unthinking jokes about pricks. I guess I should tell you about her. She's a little over medium height, maybe 5-7. She probably weighs around 140 pounds. Maybe that's a bit much by magazine model standards, but, after all, she's nearly 45. She's got frosted hair that she wears short. Her eyes are dark brown. She's got laugh lines at their edges and she laughs a lot. She photographs well.

That's why we were there that morning. I was having a one man show at school and she was my last project for the show.

I got an old blanket out of the SUV and placed it on a section of wall that was waist high. This section was in sunlight. I had my mother sit on the blanket to protect her dress from dirt. I posed her with the parasol over one shoulder. I started shooting her from several angles, using both cameras and lenses of various focal lengths.

Thirty minutes later I was done.

"Ready for a break?"

"For sure."

We walked back to the SUV and I cracked open some soft drinks. We sat on the tailgate, listening to the songbirds and making small talk.

"OK, what's next?"

I looked at the sky. The sun was gone, hidden by clouds. I mentioned that fact to my mother, adding that the conditions were just right for some pictures of her and the flowers. Filtered sunlight meant I wouldn't need to use any reflectors or fill in flash.

"OK. I want to wear this dress to start."

"Fine." I looked around. To get a better view, I stood on the tallest of the remaining stone walls. "There's a nice patch about fifty yards that way. I want to set up over there and have you walk towards me. Then we can do some tight shots of you and the flowers."

"That sounds good. Wave when you're ready."

] 02 -

The spot I'd chosen was about midway between the ruins of the house and the barn. I positioned myself on the far edge of the flowers and waved that I was set.

Mom started her approach. Maybe she didn't have any formal modeling experience, but she had a natural talent. As she walked towards me, mom varied her pace, would stop sometimes to twirl on her toes, or bend down to pick a flower. She opened and closed the parasol, carried over this shoulder or that, even ran across my field of view. I took lots of pictures of her, having her stop once while I put the longest lens on the 35 mm. That long a lens give a great depth of field at small apertures while also foreshortening the subject. I wanted just those effects before she got too close to take advantage of them.

Finally, she reached me. I took pictures of her kneeling, sitting, and even lying in the flowers. I used my shortest lens on its macro setting to take some extreme close-ups.

I gave mom a break while I reloaded the film pack on the 35 mm body. I also put a fresh flash card in the digital camera. I discovered years ago that it was better to remove a partially filled card rather than run the risk of filling it up just when you had a chance to take a perfect picture.

"Break over."

"OK." Mom got to her feet. She grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it up. As she tossed aside the yellow dress, I saw that underneath it, she had worn a white polo shirt and shorts. "Will this work?"

"Great! You missed your true calling, mom."

"I hardly think that."

I started posing mom for another set of pictures. Mostly I duplicated the poses I'd shot earlier. The different costume presented a different aspect from the sundress.

While busily taking my photographs, I didn't notice that the sky darkened. What had been tall fluffy towers of white became dark and threatening. They came from the west, building. When I finally noticed them, they were overhead. Lightning was spitting from cloud to cloud and occasionally darting to the ground. Thunder rumbled.

Of course, my mother noticed them too. "I think we'd better head for the vehicle."

"I agree." I helped her to her feet. That's when I noticed a solid wall of rain coming across the pasture towards us. Lightning grew in strength. The sound of its passage deepened. I could smell the ozone in the air.

The rain hit us before we had even left our places.

Trying to cover up my camera as best I could, I shouted at mom, "The barn's closer."

She turned towards it and began her sprint. My pace, with my arms wrapped around my chest to try to keep the cameras dry, was slower. Mom outdistanced me easily. In fact, she had a great running form. Her arms worked up and down in time to her legs. She put a lot of distance between me and her in short order. I saw her disappear into the barn.

I joined her some seconds later. Needless to say, I was soaked to the skin. Mom was in no better shape.

The barn was a low structure, twice as long as wide, with large doors at both ends. The floor was hard packed dirt. In the middle of the barn was a fairly new John Deere tractor and a hay wagon. Against one wall was a large gasoline tank and a hand pump. Bales of hay were stacked to one side and reached most of the way to the ceiling. Otherwise it was empty.

"Is your stuff OK?" The heavy rain pounded on the sheet metal roof, almost drowning out my mother's question.

I unslung the cameras and bag and set them on the low bed of the trailer. I had a scrap of cotton cloth in the bag. I wiped down the camera bodies. They seemed OK.

"I think so."

"Did you close up the Chevy before we left it?"

"I couldn't remember whether or not I'd put up the tailgate and told her so.

She went to stand at the wide door. "If you didn't, everything will be soaked. It's really coming down."

I went to stand beside her. The clouds were less dark, but the amount of water and lightning they were unleashing hadn't diminished.

"Well, we can't do anything about it," Mom said in her practical way. "You wanted to get some pictures in here, I'm sure, so we might as well go ahead."

That's when I noticed her. Mom was as soaked as I was. Instead of a shirt and jeans like me, however, she was wearing that white shorts outfit. It was plastered to her body. The soaking had made the garments transparent. Through her shirt, her white lace bra was visible and underneath them both her small dark nipples showed. Her shorts were also see through. Her panties matched her brassiere. I could see the dark smudge of her pubic patch.

"Where do you want to start?"

It was obvious my mother didn't realize how she looked. And there was no way I could tell her. Instead, I asked her to stand at the far door where there was a bit more light. I could start with some silhouettes.

As she walked away from me, I received another shock. During her dash to the cover of the barn, her shorts had snuggled up to her bum. Her ass cheeks were exposed. My eyes drank in their roundness.

The pictures I took were good enough, I suppose. I didn't spend much time thinking about art as I focused and tripped the shutter. I was thinking about how sexy mom looked.

I remembered the time I discovered that my mother had a sexual side to her personality. She and dad had gone out to the country club for a party. When they returned, I could tell they'd been drinking. As mom turned away from me, I saw that her dress had been unzipped. Her backside was bare, exposed almost to the crack of her ass. As she went upstairs, her hips twitched. Dad grinned at me, licked his lips, and followed.

Mom had dropped her wrap and purse on the carpet. I went to get them, thinking that I should put them away. Thinking about her smooth white skin, I dropped her purse also. Cosmetics spilled out. I picked them up and started to stuff them back. That's when I discovered her red bra and panties. I looked at them. Her panties were damp. I sniffed them. For the first time, the scent of a woman struck me. I laid on the couch, pressed the crotch of her panties tightly to my face. I thought about the look that had been on my father's face. I took out my cock and stroked myself as I pictured them in bed.

After that, I became incensed with her panties. When I could, I stole them from the dirty clothes hamper in the master bathroom. I went through her drawers to catalog her wardrobe. She had dozens of pairs of matching bras and panties. Garter belts. Camisoles and teddies. In the closet hung sheer negligees.

When I could, I listened to my parents fuck.

Back then, dad was junior at his job and had to travel a lot. He averaged two weeks out of the month on the road. When he got back home, they always had a long and loud fuck session.

I hacked into mom's e-mail account. I found countless messages to dad. Most were obscene. She described what she was going to wear to bed that. What she was going to do to her body. What she wanted him to do. What she expected when he got home. I discovered pictures that she sent him on his travels. Clothed. Semi-nude. Naked. Using dildos. Fruit. Wine bottles. In her mouth. Up her cunt. Inside her asshole. Attaching nipple clamps to her boobs. Strapping a butterfly vibrator against her cunt. Wearing them under the clothes she wore to work.

She told dad how she had cum at her job, thinking about his cock fucking her. How she imagined he had come by on his lunch hour and she locked the door to her office while he fucked her on her desk. How he had stuffed her panties in her mouth to keep her quiet as he pounded her.

And I read my father's responses to her. Saw the pictures he took of himself as he worked his cock and hosed all over himself in some motel room. How badly he wanted to fuck her, to rape her cunt and her ass, make her choke on his cock as he shot massive wads down her throat, filling her belly with cum. Bend her over the dining room table and fuck her raw. Fuck her so hard that she could barely stand and it hurt to walk when her worn cunt lips abraded against each other.

All this from my prim and proper mother who I'd never even heard swear. Never heard her utter a "damn" or "hell." Writing using the filthiest language in existence.

I took her picture as the rain came down on the roof above us. I drank in the sight of her. The woman I jerked off to as a teen was now in front of me, almost as bare as she'd been in those selfies. Close enough to touch. Close enough almost to smell.

"What's wrong, Drake?" mom asked, breaking into the fog that filled my mind.

"Huh? Wrong?"

"You don't seem to be concentrating on what - Oh, my God!" Mom put one hand to her mouth. The other pointed at me. I noticed for the first time that I had a boner like I'd never had before. "What's wrong with you?"

I turned away from her, embarrassed. I didn't know what to say.

"Is this what I can expect from you? Just from taking pictures of me? Answer me!"

"Mom, I'm sorry."

"You should be. I had no idea that you were this sick. Just because I pose for you, that's no reason -" Her tirade stopped in mid-sentence. She finally noticed how she appeared, the wet clothes sticking to her body. Exposing her. It was her turn to be embarrassed and face away from me.

That didn't help my erection at all, since her ass looked as sexy as her tits and cunt.

She reached up. I could tell she was pulling the wet fabric from her body.

I set aside my cameras. "Mom?"

"Don't say a word. Don't try to apologize. There's nothing you can say or do that will help." Her words had lost much of their anger.

"I was just going to say that I can't help reacting to you. It's normal for a guy to react to a good looking woman."

"Not when she's your mother."

"Mom..." I wanted to cry. Can you believe it, a twenty year old guy wanting to cry just because he gets a boner. Absurd.

She must have sensed the turmoil in my voice. Mom turned around to look at me. She gave me a sad smile.

"I guess I really can't blame you. Like you say, it's biology. I just had no idea I was so, so exposed."

"Well, kinda." I was able to smile a little, too.

"Does it excite you to take pictures of me."

I shook my head. "No, mom. It's just, wet, well, you look so sexy."

Again she pulled her wet shirt. Maybe it helped a little, but I didn't think there was much difference.

"I guess I'm showing some tittie."

"And camel toe. And you should see your ass." What had I just said?!?

Mom twisted to look at her bum, but couldn't see her cheeks hanging out, of course. She reached behind with both hands, ran her thumbs under the legs of her shorts, and pulled the taut fabric down.

"And did you say 'camel toe'?"

"Uh, yeah. I guess I shouldn't have done that."

"I think it's better to be honest. It looks like I really affected you."

I glanced down at my groin. "Yeah. You sure do."

"Am I still affecting you?'

"You know you are, mom." There was something in her voice that made me look more closely at her. She was still backlit by the dim light from the open barn door., so I couldn't see many facial details.

I looked at her while the rain drummed around us.

My heart in my throat, I ran my hand across the hard cock that pressed against my jeans. I cupped it.. Rubbed it."Drake! You don't know what you're doing. You need to stop this instant."

"It feels good, mom. You gave me an erection and it feels good to touch it. My cock is so hard it hurts and it feels better when I touch myself." In for a penny, in for a pound. I undid my jeans and opened the fly. The wet denim clung to my legs, but I managed to force my jeans down around my knees. My cock stuck out of my boxers. I fisted it.

"Son - " She paused.. "Put your thing away, son."

"My cock? You want me to put my cock back in my pants? I don't think it will fit, mom. It's too hard. I mean, look how hard my cock is, mom."

She put her back to me. I sat down on the hay trailer. I unlaced my sneakers, pulled them off along with my socks. I unclipped the holstered .22 Colt from my belt and set the pistol aside. I fought my way out of my wet clinging jeans, followed by my shorts. I moved away from the tractor and stood behind my mother.

"You made my cock so hard, mama." I sounded like a little boy. "I have to jerk off or it feels like it'll swell up even bigger and burst."

"Then do it, damn it!" Mom moved closer to the open door, so close that the falling rain splashed against her legs after hitting the ground.

I stepped behind her. We were so close the only way she could escape me was to leave the dry barn.

"OK. I'm jerking off." I was standing close enough to her to see a shiver pass through her body. "I'm pounding my meat, mom. Turn around so I can see your tits. Turn around so you can watch me jerk off."

"I'm not going to watch and I'm not going to show you my breasts." She shook her head for emphasis.

"That's all right, mom. I've already seen your tits and they're nice." I jacked my cock in a steady rhythm, holding it lightly in my hand." I think they're some of the nicest tits I've ever seen. But you've got a great ass, too, and that's what I'm looking at right now. I think your ass is one of the sexiest asses I've ever seen. In fact, I think your entire body's about as sexy as I've ever seen."

"I don't want to hear you talk like that, Drake."

"But it's true, mom. And I remember you saying all my life that I should always tell the truth." I bent a little closer to her, so close that mom could feel my breath on the back of her neck. Being taller than her, I could see over her shoulder and catch the hint of her cleavage between the V of her polo shirt. I could see the hard points of her small nipples. I could see the beginnings of a sexual flush reddening her skin. My cock, my hand almost brushed against her white covered ass.

"Do you want to know what else is true? I've wanted to fuck you for years. And if I can't do that, this is the next best thing. I'm beating off right behind you. You're going to feel me cum all over your back and ass. That wonderfully sexy ass of yours."

Again, I saw the tremble. The tips of mom's ears took on a pinkish tinge as her excitement increased. Her breathing deepened.

"I'm going to cum, mom. Don't you want to see me cum?"

Mom, in a strained voice, told me "It's wrong."

I had an answer for that. "It's only wrong if we don't love each other. You know I love you."

"I know you do."

"But you don't love me." I felt terrible saying it. It was the same line I used with my first girlfriend, the line I used to get in her panties and take her cherry.

"I love you so much, Drake." She shifted her position a small amount, just enough so the my hand brushed her ass as I stroked my cock.

Encouraged, I brought my face closer to her. I breathed deeply of her rain soaked hair.

"Mmm-m-m. I'm glad you love me, mom." Stroke. "That's going to make my cum so much better." Stroke. "I'm going to cum so hard - " Stroke. "- because you love me." Stroke. "Do you want me to cum hard?" Stroke. "Do you want to see me cum?" Stroke. "Watch me as I cum."

"Are you close?"

Stroke... Stroke.

"Yes," I lied. Stroke.

Mom faced me with a jerk and went to her knees in front of me. As the rain poured down on the metal tinned barn and the lightning darted and the thunder rolled, my mother took my cock in her mouth.

] 03 -

Her mouth was incredibly wet as it engulfed my cock. Wet and warm. No, not warm. Hot. As hot as any cunt I'd ever fucked. And her tongue was a caressing entity. It moved over, around my cock. Manipulated my cock. Pleasured it so that when she asked if I was close to orgasm, I could have gone for several minutes before release. Not now. Not with her wonderfully wet and hot mouth, not with her amazingly adept tongue loving my cock. No, I was close to cumming. I fought the urge, knew I was going to lose the struggle despite all my desires to hold back, to prolong these sensations.

I watched mom as her head rocked forward and back. Her eyes were shut maybe with pleasure, perhaps with concentration. My cock stretched her lips. Her boobs jiggled slightly with her back and forth efforts. By now, her top was slowly drying. It was less transparent. As if to compensate for this loss of visibility, her nipples were now harder. The sight of them made my mouth water.

Mom lifted her eyes to mine. Her stretched lips twitched as if in a smile. My mother made humming noises; the vibrations coursed through my cock. Took me all the way down her throat till her nose pressed among the wiry hair of my groin. She caressed my tight scrotum with long and slender fingers. Massaged my nuts. Pulled gently at their sac.

I tried to blank my mind to the sensations that flowed from the head of my cock all the way up my spine. It was hopeless. I came in a long and strong pulse that jetted right to mom's stomach.

Mom pulled her head back as I continued to cum. She caught the rest of my semen in her mouth. Or tried to catch it all. Although her cheeks ballooned out and I saw her swallowing, a thick rope of cum dripped from the corner of her mouth. The semen hung. Before she could corral it with her fingers, the cum dropped to stain her white polo.

I stepped away from my kneeling mother. She held on to my cock with her lips till it popped free. She opened her mouth to show her coated tongue. She closed her mouth. When she opened it again, my cum was gone.

Mom raised her hand. I took it and helped her to her feet. She moved into my arms. We kissed wetly. For the first time. I tasted my mother's tongue. It was - sweet. Erotic. Hotter than I'd have ever believed, sucking on my mother's tongue as I grabbed her ass cheeks and pulled her hard against my stiff cock. I was amazed as she responded to the contact by rotating her hips.

Suddenly, mom pulled away. She had a strange look in her eyes. She rubbed the back of her hand across her lips.

"That was so wrong." Mom shook her head. "I'm sorry, Drake. I shouldn't have kissed you that way. I haven't kissed a man like that other than your father since we married."

"I never felt anything so good, mom. That blow job, there aren't words to describe it. And believe me, you weren't my first."

She smiled at my compliment despite herself. "I haven't done that to anyone but your dad, either, in over twenty years."

"You made me feel , well, you know." I shrugged. I took a step towards her. "Now it's your turn."

"Oh, no." Mom held up her hand like a traffic cop stopping traffic. "I can't let you do that. You'd want to fuck me if I let you do that. And what we've - What I've already done is bad enough without making it worse."

"How about this. I won't do anything you don't ask me to do. I won't touch your tits. I won't even get close to your pussy or ass. But I know how to make you feel as good as you made me feel. I can guarantee it."

I saw her thinking it over. It was as if I'd challenged her. "I don't believe you."

"I won't even kiss your mouth. Or your ears or neck. I promise."

She laughed and the sound of her laughter rivaled the steady drumbeat of rain on the tin roof. "So, let's say that you won't touch me anywhere except, oh, from the tips of my fingers to my elbow, from my toes to my knees. Have I got this right? And you'll give me an orgasm?"

"I didn't say I'd make you cum. I said I'd make you feel as good as I felt when you were sucking my cock. And that I won't touch you anywhere except where you say. But if you ask me to help you cum, I'll give you the best orgasm you've ever dreamed of."

She smiled. She put one hand on her hip the way mom's do and regarded my face. She looked me up and down. Her eyes didn't linger at my still stiff prick, just took it in with the rest of my body.

"You have a high opinion of yourself."

That didn't require any response from me beyond a nod.

"And you promise not to touch my breasts or anyplace else? Not touch me at all?"

"Scout's honor," I pledged. "Except from your fingers to your elbows, toes to your knees."

"Do I have to be naked?"

"Not unless you want to be. In fact, I'd rather you stayed like you are right now. No, I take that back. "

"Ah, now we get to the fine print. I knew you were going to renege on this."

I shook my head. "It's up to you. Do it if you want or don't. It won't matter to the outcome."

"OK. What do you want? I'm not saying I'll do it; I'm willing to listen, though."

"OK. First, I want you to pull up you shorts in back so that your cheeks are exposed. Like they were after you ran in here."

Mom considered my request. She put her back to me. With her thumbs hooked in the snug white shorts, she lifted them. "Good enough?"

"A little more if you would, mom."

"That doesn't seem like too much to ask." She pulled another inch of material up and suddenly her fantastic ass was back on display. In the gap between her thighs I could even see the groove of her cunt. "What else?"

When I was having her pose for my pictures after our arrival in the barn, I had noticed some farm implements in one corner of the barn. Among the tools was an old bucket. I went to get it. It was rusty but sound. I held it out the door and the rain quickly filled it. I sloshed the water around and tossed it out, then refilled the container. I carried it to my mother.

"I want you to be wet, like when the rain had soaked you."

"It'll be cold. I'll catch my death of pneumonia."

"Mom, it's 80° in here. It's your choice, though. Do as you will."

"Oooh, I hate your attitude. You're too much like your father. Give me the bucket."

I handed it to her. She poured the water across her front and a once her soaked outfit revealed herself. Mom handed me the pail, turned her back, and allowed me to dowse the rest of her.

"What else," she asked, shivering for effect.

I went back to the hay trailer and dug my pocket knife out of my jeans. I flicked open the blade. I used the knife to cut the ropes that held together two bales of hay. I scattered the hay around a mattress sized area. There were a couple of old tarps in the trailer. I spread them on the hay.

I turned to my mother, bowed to her. "Your bed awaits."

"I really want to see where you go with this. Personally, I think your crazy as a bedbug."

"Oh, and please take off your sandals."

Mom undid her shoes. She laid back on the covered hay.

I took the empty bucket and refilled it with rain water. That's when I noticed something I could use. Or rather, my mother could use. In the corner where I'd gotten the bucket, there were several shovels, a couple of picks, even some hoes and rakes. From hooks on the wall hung two saws and what looked like old fashioned ice tongs, only bigger. I decided these were used in moving hay bales. There was also a broken shovel handle. It was about ten inches long and so old the wood had been smoothed by the years. The top of the handle was rounded, slightly bulbous. The broken end was jagged. I took down one of the saws. The handle was hard, but after a couple of minutes, I had the jagged end cut away. I hung the saw back on it's hook.

My mother watched all this with fascination, no doubt. I carried the bucket and my shovel handle back to her. I tossed the handle down beside her. It looked like a handmade dildo. When mom looked at me, her eyes were wide.

"You're not going to use that."

"No, ma'am. I won't even touch it unless you hand it to me later."

"You need to promise."

"I promise I won't touch that cut off handle unless you place it in my hand. Scout's honor."

I"I guess I can trust a boy scout..."

I took off my shirt. I dipped it in the bucket, soaking my shirt. I squatted beside her, my cock nearly touching her leg. Mom drew away from me.

"May I have your foot?"

Mom lifted her foot, I wiped it down, even between her toes.

"The other, please."

She complied. I repeated the washing. I set the bucket out of reach. I looked at my mother.

"You are so incredibly sexy," I told her. I can see your boobs perfectly. Your tits are hard. They're not very big, are they, and so pale. Not large and dark some some I've seen. I think I prefer yours."

"My nipples were always that way. Even after I breast fed you and your sisters, they never got bigger. Or darker." She added after a pause, " It's going to take more than words to get me in the groove, son."

"I know that." It was my turn to stop. I looked at her recumbent body. It was everything I'd ever wanted in a woman's body. And because she was my mother, supposedly forbidden, the desire within me was even stronger. I continued, "After we're done, you're going to pose for me. Naked, desirable. You're going to pose for my pictures with my cum dripping from your cunt, eyes shut in satiation, body slack with completion, chest heaving as you struggle to fill your lungs, a complete woman for her son. Scout's honor, I promise."

Mom didn't respond to my bragodocious forecast; in fact, she looked quite doubtful. I could imagine what was going through her mind. She was a woman. I knew from reading her e-mails, along with dad's, that they had led an adventurous and fulfilling sex life. What was a twenty year old guy going to offer her? It was time she found out.

I took her hand. I brought her hand to my mouth. I kissed the muscular web that formed between her thumb and index finger. I bit it. Gently. Sort of gnawed at the area. Took her thumb between my lips and sucked the digit. Licked it. Kissed it. Worried the fat pad with my teeth. Sucked it some more before going to each finger in its place. I spent a couple minutes on them before returning to her thumb.

"Lie back, mom, if you would."

She settled back. I moved closer to her head. I wanted her to be aware of my cock, still hard even if not fully erect. Mom closed her eyes. That was OK. There was no way she couldn't think about my tool as I worked on her other hand. On this one, I kissed and sucked at the inside of wrist, spending less time with her fingers, although I still paid special attention to her thumb. I made sucking noises as her thumb came in and out of my mouth.

I released her hand. She laid it on her abdomen.

I moved away from her head. I lifted her right foot. Mom bent her knee so I could raise the foot. I massaged her instep. Rotated her ankle gently. Massaged up her calf Kissed her instep. I kissed her big toe. I sucked it.

"Ah."

It was her first response.

I sucked harder, ran my tongue around her toe, and licked between it and its neighbor. I sucked them both.

"You taste so good," I told my mother before returning to her toe. As with her thumb, I sucked, kissed, and nibbled on the fat toe.

"This little piggy went to market... This little piggy stayed home." I sucked the second toe. Continuing the childhood rhyme, I kissed and sucked each toe. When I got to the last of them, I spent a few extra moments.

"I had a girlfriend," I told mom, "who had ten toes."

Mom lifted her head and opened her eyes.

With her foot in one hand and my cock in the other, I rubbed my piss slit over her toes.

"She had six toes on one foot, four on the other."

"Hah, hah. You're so funny." Mom closed her eyes and put her head back down.

I didn't mind her tepid response to my weak joke. It had served its purpose. Mom had looked up and seen my cock as I brushed it across her digits. I wanted my cock in her consciousness, wanted her aware of its presence.

I took her left foot and sucked on her toes. I took my time now, each one getting several minutes of attention. Feet are full of nerve endings. Toes are full of sensory receptors.

"Um, I love loving your toes. They taste so good. They make my cock so hard." I lifted her feet, held them together, and slid my cock over her soles. And your calves. So soft, so smooth, yet firm from all those tennis matches. Your legs are so, sexy. So-o-o fucking sexy."

I returned her toes to my mouth.

"Maybe you need to paint the nails. I like red toenails. They're so sexy. But even if you don't paint them, that's all right. I love your toes just the way they are."

As I sucked, mom squirmed a little. I felt her calves grow firm as her ass moved slightly.

"You know what else I like, mom? I like that you don't shave your cunt. I like a little hair with my pussy." I didn't really care one way or the other; I was talking to keep ideas in her head. "I can see your cunt so easily in those wet shorts and panties. When you dressed this morning and you put on that bra and those panties, did you know I'd be seeing them? Is that why you wore matching undies? Or do you always wear matching bra and panties? Mom?"

"I didn't give you a single thought."

"But I bet you are now. I know you are. I can see your pussy lips so easily in those sexy white lace panties. Oh, and your nipples? I think they've gotten even harder. They're really sticking out. Hard. Just like my cock."

I dragged the tip of my cock over her leg. The passage of my cock left a thin trail of pre-cum.

"Can you feel that, mom? Can you feel my pre-cum? I remember what Coach Hanson said. He was my health teacher. He said pre-cum - I forget the technical name for it, but the whole class knew what he meant - He said pre-cum was a clear fluid that the body used to make sure our cock's were clean inside. Up in our urethras. That pre-cum made sure that no urine would linger and possible damage our sperm. Sperm has to have a precise balance of pH. Urine was too acidic. Or maybe it's too basic. I never was good at chemistry.

"I'm good at fucking, though. I think my balls are always full of cum and my cock's always hard. Do you remember Coach Hanson, mom? He taught health and was a baseball coach. His wife taught English. They left my junior year. Did you know I fucked her?"

"No!"

"Yep," I lied again. I'd never scored with any of my teachers; it wasn't for lack of trying, though. "That's why they went to another district. She was pregnant. I don't think it was mine, though."

"You're lying, you son of a bitch!" Mom's head came up. Her eyes were full of anger.

I smiled at her. "If you say so, mom. I never disagree with whatever you say. I never agree with a sexy woman with hard nipples and a hungry cunt. And I know your cunt's hungry, mom. That's not just rainwater staining the crotch of your sexy lace panties."

I shifted so my face was close to her crotch. I sniffed loudly.

"Please don't."

"I haven't broken a single promise, mom," I pointed out. "Fingers and toes, hands and feet, elbows to knees."

Mom whimpered loudly enough for me to hear.

"Did you say something, mom?" When she didn't answer me, I continued. "I wish you could see yourself. Do you know how red your face is? Listen, mom. I know you want to touch yourself, even if it's just a little. Go ahead. I want to see how you pleasure yourself when dad's not around. He doesn't have to know. It's just you and I. A son who loves a woman, a mother who loves a man. You know what, though, I don't want to make this difficult for you. If you don't want me to watch, I won't. I'll sit here and play with your feet awhile and if you want to touch yourself and you want me to leave, I will. Scout's honor."I picked up a foot and brought the big toe to my mouth. When I sucked it, mom let a sob. I ignored that and sucked some more.

It was just a couple of minutes later I heard mom whisper, "It's too much."

"Then go ahead, mom."

Eyes shut, she reached for her knocker. I went back to ministering to her feet. I kept watch, though, out of the corner of my eye. Mom kneaded both her tits with her hands. Her boobs weren't huge, but nice sized, each a handful or a little more. The size went well with her small nipples, a very nice package indeed.

Letting a toe free from my mouth, I said, "That must feel good."

"Oh, it does, Drake." She teased her nipples with her fingertips. "It feels so fucking good."

"Maybe I shouldn't look."

Mom opened her eyes. "No, I want you to look. I want you to see what I do when I need a man."

My mother pulled on her nipples, drawing her boobs upwards. I saw a look of pain on her face as she pulled. Then she released her nipples and let her boobs settled back. They jiggled a little in her lace bra, but not much. She repeated the process several times. She moaned as she released her tits and was soon rubbing her thighs together. I watched her rub them together, clenching her thighs, relaxing them, over and over. Mom pulled harder and farther on her nipples, held them longer, all the time squeezing her legs together.

I wanted to be between them. It wasn't time yet, though.

Mom's mouth hung open, although every few seconds, she moaned or licked her lips. She let go of one of her nipples to suck her fingers. She rubbed her fingers at the button of her shorts, down the fly, and between her legs.

I picked up the sawed off shovel handle, put it in her hand.

"Yes-s-s!" She rubbed the wood against her cunt. Even though it was covered by her shorts, I could tell that pussy lips were swollen. "Oh, that's so much better."

OK, it was time. I moved from her feet to crouch by mom's head.

"Mom?"

She opened her eyes. Saw my cock pointed directly at her mouth. This time, when she licked her lips, I was close enough for her tongue to swipe over the head of my prick.

"Do you want me to help you?"

Mom surprised me by chuckling. "You're a real son of a bitch, aren't you. You knew I'd be like this, you motherfucker. No, you sick bastard. I don't want you to help me. I want you to fuck me."

She tossed aside the ersatz cock. Mom popped open the button of her shorts with a flick of her fingers. She slid down the zipper with her hand.

I moved down her body. As she lifted her ass of the tarpaulin, I pulled off her wet shorts, followed by her panties. I lingered over these, holding them to my face, drinking deeply of her aroma, mixed with the cleaner scent of rainwater.

"Oh, for God's sake! Don't tell me you're a panty freak, too."

"Don't be so bitchy, mom," I growled.

I looked at her cunt. The sight brought back never forgotten memories of the pictures she'd sent dad. She had a sparse fringe of hair that ran up from her labia to midway up her love mound. .The rest of her pussy down to her ass was hairless. The hair itself was brown and not kinky. Apparently mom took the trouble to trim it regularly without going to the effort of a total shave or wax job. Needless to say, it was the prettiest cunt in the world. The cunt from which I'd come. The cunt to which I was returning.

I slapped her lightly on her hip. She took the hint and rolled over. Got up on her hands and knees. I knelt at her ass. Held her hips with in my hands, drank in the smooth whiteness of her round ass. No cellulite here, just taut skin over muscle, deeply cleaved. I pulled with my hands to expose her darker hole of her rectum, so different than the pink swollen cunt that waited below it. I'd already had her mouth. Now I was going to her cunt. Later, mom's asshole would be mine too. I'd see it gaping as I plunged within and withdrew, feel her sphincter tighten as I fucked her. That was for later, though.

I felt the warmth of my mother before I actually penetrated her. Used my hand to rub the head of my cock at her cunt, feeling her fat lips Eased forward. Heard mom whimper in anticipation. I decided I'd teased her sufficiently. Time for the reward for all my hard work. Then I was inside her. Mom and I moaned in unison as her lips accepted my forbidden cock. As I probed farther, only a fraction of an inch at a time, I burned the experience into my memory. There could be only one first fuck with my mother. This fuck was historic.

Finally I was ball's deep inside my mother. Nine inches of hard meat had been fed to her hungry cunt. Her hungry wet cunt. Hungry wet hot cunt.

"OH - MY - GOD!"

I rocked my hips back slightly. Mom's tight twat didn't want to seem to let go of me. I retreated a little farther and she let my cock go. Almost all the way out before another inward thrust. Slowly, as a tease. Slowly as her womb adjusted to my girth.

Mom wiggled her ass as I held myself inside her.

"OK. All right."

I fucked my mother. I fucked my mother with more lust, more desire than I'd ever felt. Lust and desire to fuck her, to please her the way a woman should never be pleasured, driven to pummel her cunt, to please her as she'd never been pleased, to drive her into an orgasm that she'd never felt, to reach depths of her cunt never attained, to fill her cunt with my cream, more cum than she'd ever held inside her womb. And mom fucked me as hard. She jammed her ass backwards to meet my thrusts. We grunted, cursed, prayed with each collision.

Mom jerked away from me, forcefully freeing herself from my cock. I thought for a few manic seconds that she had conquered her desire and the sin of incest was too much for her. Thank goodness I was wrong. Mom, free of my prick, simply rolled over on her back. Like a cat who wants it's belly rubbed. She bent her legs. Spread her thighs. Held her arms out to me.

I dropped atop my mother. Like a pit viper, my cock inerrantly found her cunt. I buried myself anew as her arms went around me. She lifted her head and hungrily found my lips. Our tongues danced.

"I like it this way," mom told me as our hips merged, withdrew, came together again in the primal rhythm of humankind. "We can kiss. See each other's eyes as I receive your cum. Oh, darling! Fuck me!"

I held myself over her and drove my cock fully in to my mother at a frantic pace. The humid heat once more engulfed my cock as I spread her womb. She lifted herself enough to remove her polo shirt. She unhooked her bra and tossed the garments aside. I took advantage of the situation by dipping my head. I grabbed a nipple with my lips and pulled gently, sucking it into my mouth.

"Oh, darling! Play with mama's titties. That feels so good. It feels so fucking good, especially when you're fucking me!"

As I sucked harder on my mother's tit, my body drove into her. And mom was slamming her hips upwards as forcefully as I worked my own. Her cunt swallowed my cock. She sucked my cock inside as hard as I sucked her boob. Mom babbled. Occasionally, her words were coherent. She was begging, demanding, urging me to fuck her harder, faster. Of course, I didn't need any urging. I kept my thrusts steady, plunging in and out of her wet twat as it grasped and released me. Her muscles would hold me only briefly as I bottomed out in her womb, quickly releasing me as I started the withdrawal. I had never felt such vaginal control. Even as I was almost all the way out of my mother, the opening of he cunt held me tightly, loosened as I went back into her only to grip me when I reinserted my cock into her birth canal. Gripped me so that mom's cunt lips held the base of my cock.

Suddenly, the pattern of mom's massage of my cock changed. Her cunt gripped me no matter what I did, released slightly for a second or two before gripping me again. Then she totally released me only to tighten spasmodically.

I recognized the signs. Mom was cumming on my dick. She lifted her head. She put her mouth on my shoulder. I felt her teeth. Felt them bite, pierce my skin. I screamed at the pain. Then gasped at the pleasure as my nuts emptied into my mother's pulsating cunt

By the time I rolled off my mother and pulled her to my chest, the storm had passed. Gentle rain still fell, setting up a soft patter on the tin roof above us. It was an atonal lullaby without a melody. My mother slept in my arms, I dozed holding her.

It was later, the rain still soft above us, when I felt her stir in my arms. She kissed the side of my of my mouth. Her fingers drifted over my chest.

"I need you, darling. Love me. Love me hard and long. Please, darling."

OK, since she said please...

I took the pictures, as promised. Mom walked back, naked to the bluebonnets where we'd left her sundress in our haste to gain the barn. She posed nude among the wildflowers. Pulled on the soaked dress and posed again, more lewd than when she was unclothed.

Then I led her back to the Chevy. I was glad to see that, as I'd hoped, I'd closed it up before we began our photographic session. She tossed the dress in the back, dried herself with a tee shirt, and pulled on a blue seersucker jumper. It buttoned up the front and the summery fabric emphasized her nudity under it. Mom gave me a sly smile as she turned to let me get the full effect of the jumper. It was short enough to expose her ass cheeks. I whistled.

"I thought you might approve," mom said as she found a short navy skirt and buttoned it at her waist. Suddenly, except for her jiggling boobs, she was presentable.

She climbed behind the wheel. I closed the tailgate and slid in to the passenger seat. She backed out from under the trees and headed for the road. The track was muddy, but no problem for our wide tires.

We were almost at the cattle guard that would let us out on to the main road, when a battered old pick up pulled onto our track. As we approached, the vehicle pulled in to the grass and an elderly man got out. He was dressed in work clothes and had a faded cowboy hat on his head.

He pushed the hat back as mom stopped alongside his truck. I recognized it as a Studebaker that had to be sixty years old. It was probably a few years younger than the rancher.

He came up to mom's window and nodded. "Howdy folks. Nice day after the rain, ain't it. My name's Egon Schulze." He pronounced his first name so it rhymed with pagan.

Mom introduced herself and nodded towards me. "And this is Drake. Yes, it's beautiful. I hope you don't mind. We've been taking some pictures of your wildflowers."

"Well, ma'am, they aren't hardly mine... Yeah, they's nice this year."

I added, "We took some down at the old house, too."

"My granddaddy built that place in, oh, 'bout 1889. I was born there, myself, 'round '37."

"So your family's been here a long time."

"Per't' near, ma'am. Per't' near. Ol' Stoneface didn't bother y'all none, I hope. He don't like a person to disturb them calves of his."

"Oh, you mean that black angus? No, he didn't bother us any."

"Good for you, ma'am. He can be a mean bull. Danged if he didn't break my leg two summers ago. Laid me up for per't' near two weeks. Feared I was of ever getting in a saddle again. 'Course, a man my age, his bones don't mend none too good. Not that I ain't got a few more good years in me. "

"He was a perfect gentleman around us. And I bet you've still got a good bone or two left."

"Well, him and me always did 'preciate a perty heifer." The old man touched his hat again. "Well, it's a pleasure meetin' you an' your husband, ma'am. Y'all have a safe trip."

"Our pleasure, Mr. Schulze."

Mom drove on and waved her hand out the window as she pulled us on to the pavement and accelerated.

"He thought we were married," I said.

"And he sure was staring at my legs."

"Maybe you want to go back and try one of his old bones. You have admirers everywhere. I should have given him these as a memento." I pulled the white lace panties out of my pocket.

"I wondered where those got to. You probably stole my bra, too."

I stopped to think. "I thought you picked it up. I bet we left it in the barn."

Mom laughed. "I hope he finds it." Then, more seriously, she went on, ""I guess the closest decent motel is in Wofford."

"Huh?"

"We'll stop for gas there. While you're getting us a room, I'm going to call your father. I'll tell him that the rain spoiled your photography project and we'll try again tomorrow." She laid her hand on my thigh, rubbing it, getting within hailing distance of my cock. "I think he'll buy it. You have a lot more pictures to take."