Bountiful Harvest
Son is rewarded for good, honest work on the family farm.
I never knew much about my real dad, just that Richard wasn't him. My mom had told me bits and pieces of the story while I grew up, but I was never able to fully wrap my head around my origins. I was always curious to know more, but knew better than to ask. Mom usually got a bit emotional any time the topic came up. I just accepted that my step father, lame as he was, was the only dad I'd get.

By the time I was 18 I was smart enough to see that Mom wasn't happy with the guy she'd ended up shacking up with. I'd often listen to her and Richard raise their voices at each other before Mom went into the bedroom alone. Standing in the hallway afterwards, I'd hear her quietly crying behind the door. Needless to say, I'd been aware that there was a rift between them for a long time before they finally separated.

Mom had sat me down not too long after that, telling me that she was going to stay at her parents' farm and that I should stay in the house with Richard until I finished school. I wasn't thrilled about the plan but I wouldn't have been able to go with her anyways. Her folks lived a few counties over and I still had a month of High School left before I graduated.

Even during that time alone, him and I didn't converse much or really get to know each other. He'd wander around the house, talking to me from time to time in his monotonous voice. He was always in bed early and didn't seem to do much for fun. He'd spend most of the day typing away on his keyboard or talking on the phone about math and computer stuff that went way over my head. Frankly, he was as boring as he was mysterious.

I personally spent the month keeping to myself and going out with friends from time to time. I did overhear Richard's side of a few phone calls, though. He was apologizing a lot, saying things like, "please, Melissa, just come back. We can negotiate something." It really sounded like he wanted to work things out with Mom. Frankly, I didn't blame him.

My mother is a hell of a woman -- a real looker -- and she obviously kept her body in shape even after giving birth to me. She's the naturally thin type, with a pretty face and defined cheek bones. Her small chest suits her little frame and her tight butt makes a great foundation to her body. Having checked her out a few times myself, I didn't need to hear all the comments from my buddies to know that I have a hot mom.

When I started thinking about it, I became really curious what Richard and Mom were doing together in the first place. From the two or three photos I had seen of my mom in her younger days, I learned that she had changed a lot after settling down. She used to have a real punk-rock, maybe even goth, style and from a few stories I heard, she did some pretty wild things. I know she had a past with drugs and maybe even a few run-ins with the police. If she didn't exactly keep great company and was promiscuous, too, that would explain where I came from.

I had to wonder how a sexy, wild girl ended up with a lame, nerdy guy. Mom must have chosen him for his stability, probably cleaning up her act after realizing that she needed a responsible man now that she had a kid to raise. Did she really change that much just to lock down a stable, rich guy? Would she have done that for me? Now that I was becoming a man of my own, this month of being alone with Richard really created a lot of questions in my mind.

Richard had money, that was for sure. He was much older than Mom, being already about 40 when they met and now pushing retirement age while Mom was only in her late 30s. He was a computer programmer and owned his own software development company. I guess he managed about 100 employees and still oversaw most of the bigger contracts his firm received. That's why we lived in such a big house. Maybe he was the type of guy who liked younger women and, having money, didn't mind that she also had a child to support. He wasn't a very socially smooth guy, that was for sure, and probably had to use his other strengths to his advantage.

Mom being gone really sucked. As hard as it is for a guy my age to admit, I missed her. She really had been a good mother to me and had always supported me.

I gave her a call after I finished my final high school exam, proudly telling her that I was officially a free man. I also told her that it had been a little strained staying with my step dad.

"Why don't you come to Grandma and Grandpa's and stay with me for the summer?" She'd asked. "You don't have a job lined up yet, do you? You could help Grandpa on the farm."

I didn't relish the idea of doing farm work all summer, but I had always enjoyed spending time at my grandparent's place. As a kid I'd made many wholesome memories of climbing in the barn, jumping into piles of hay, and running around in the corn fields.

They also lived way out of town -- far from my friends. Not having a car, I wouldn't exactly be free to have a social life. But then again, I was a grown man now, out of school and needing to work. Life isn't always going to be convenient and sometimes you've gotta' take what's available. I figured I could handle a few months of good, honest labor with Grandpa and enjoy a bit more time with Mom before I got too old and had a place of my own. Maybe I could even get a few more answers out of her about my real origins and how she'd ended up with dull Richard.

---

The next day Mom came and picked me up. I didn't need to pack much since the guest room in the farm house was already well equipped and furnished. Not expecting her to want to hang around any longer than necessary, I had a duffel bag of clothes ready to throw in the trunk as soon as she arrived.

The second Mom stepped out of the car I noticed something different about her. It was in the way she carried herself. Seeming lighter on her feet, she wore a pair of tight summer shorts and a navy blue t-shirt tied in a knot at her side. As we approached each other she ran her fingers through her hair and lifted her sunglasses to keep her waves from falling back into her eyes.

Though she wasn't smiling, she looked happy. Mom was effortlessly exuding femininity. I realized that it had been quite a while since I'd seen her like this. Being out on the farm had obviously been good for her.

She pulled me in for a hug then kissed me on the cheek. "Put your things in the car," she told me. Then added, "I'm going to talk with Rich for a minute."

I did as she said, then went back into the house and took a seat in the kitchen while the two of them spoke nearby. I did my best to listen in on them.

"C'mon, Mel, don't do this. It's like I said, I'd like to keep this going. We can make a new agreement."

"No, Richard, we can't. I've made up my mind." Realizing that I'd come back inside, Mom closed the door to the sitting room where they were speaking.

There were some more muffled voices that I couldn't make out. I crept closer to them, needing to hear this. I was desperate to know the story -- my story.

Even with my ear pressed against the door, I couldn't tell what soft-spoken Richard was saying but Mom's firm voice came through clear. "He's 18 now, Rich. He's graduated. Our deal is over. Thank you for everything you've done for us, but I'm not spending another day in this house."

There were more muffled voices. Richard spoke a lot but I only understood the words "please stay" and "never have to work again." Was he begging her?

When the floor creaked and Mom's footsteps approached the door I lunged back toward the kitchen table, sitting casually just in time to avoid detection.

"Ready to go?" Mom's face was flushed.

"Yup." I sprung up and we headed to the front door.

Before I got in the car, I hesitated. Whoever Richard really was, there was one more thing I felt I needed to do. "Give me a minute, Mom."

Returning to the house, I extended my hand to my step father and shook it firmly. "Thank you for everything you did for me, Dad." I called him by the same name I'd always used then gave him a hug.

Ever awkward, he seemed unsure how to respond to my gesture. In the end, he just looked me in the eyes and nodded once. Then Mom and I were off.

I tried to talk a few times along the car ride but Mom remained quiet, obviously not in the mood for conversation. In the end, we drove most of the hour-long trip in silence.

It was difficult to keep my eyes off of her. As the wind coming through the open window gently blew her hair around, I found myself fascinated with her appearance. Her shorts stopped around the middle of her milky, white thighs, letting me see her leg muscles flex a little every time she lifted her foot off the pedal. Her inner thighs looked so soft! I couldn't stop staring at them. Eventually I began to admire her thin arms and hands, her knuckles, and the sexy indications of finger bones visible as she shifted gears. I realized that I was seeing my mother as a woman, perhaps for the first time, and I ended up watching her for most of the ride.

At one point she gave me a quizzical glance before looking forward again. I continued openly observing her. She looked at me once more a few minutes later, appearing curious about rather than bothered by my attention. After that she kept her eyes on the road. I kept my eyes on her.

When we arrived I found myself lamenting that the drive wasn't just a little longer.

---

"There's my boy!" Grandpa shouted, smiling broadly as he approached us on the long, gravel driveway. A strong man, never afraid to express his emotions, he embraced me in a firm hug when I was barely out of the car. His arms felt like iron as he squeezed me against his broad chest, almost killing me with his farmer strength.

"Hey, Gramps," I wheezed before he let me go.

"Your Mom tells me you're a free man now and lookin' for work. Well there's a-plenty to do around here, 'long as ya don't mind rising with the sun!"

Rising with the sun wasn't exactly my picture of an ideal morning, but the idea of doing some labor and toughening up a bit appealed to me. I didn't want to end up with Richard's soft, office hands.

"You better go see your Grandma, she'll be starting dinner soon and she'll be mighty happy to see you."

Grandpa had a commanding way about him. People just, sort of, did whatever he said and I promptly hustled off to find my grandmother. She was equally pleased to see me, setting down her knitting and standing up from the couch to give me a hug -- one that felt relatively gentle. She then ran off to the kitchen, returning a minute later to set a plate of cookies and a cup of tea in front of me.

An hour after that, the four of us were sharing a hot, home cooked meal. I'd forgotten how hospitable it was out here on the farm. If this was how the summer was going to go, I could get used to it -- even if it meant seeing my friends less and not being able to date any of the girls in town.

"Boy, we've got to tell you how proud we are of how you turned out," Grandpa addressed me after we'd all taken a few bites of food. "We'd been so worried seeing the lifestyle Melissa was choosing -- the path she was going down with the parties, and the clothing and drugs. And when she fell pregnant, well, we were beside ourselves. We didn't know what our daughter was going to do and those boyfriends of hers certainly weren't going to be any help."

"Dad, please," Mom spoke up, clearly not in the mood.

"Now, now, Melissa, let me finish. He's a man now and he can hear this. Besides, it's all in the past," he continued. "Well, son, your Grandma and I prayed every night that something would change. We asked the Lord to bestow some wisdom on your mom and to bring the right man into her life."

"I'm serious, Dad. Can we not talk about this now?"

"And our prayers were answered. When she started spending time with Richard, well, we were overjoyed. Sure, he was a bit older, but he already owned property and had a great job."

Mom sighed, defeated, and resolved to let her father finish the story.

"We were happy to see your mother in a stable situation after that. That's why we were devastated when she told us that the two of them were going to separate. We didn't understand. But then again, we're from a different generation and maybe it's just hard for us to relate to young people. Either way, we trust that God has a plan for both our daughter and for Richard, whom we still love, as well, even if we're not sure what that plan is."

Mom piped in again. "Are you done, Dad?"

Grandpa made a horizontal slicing motion through the air with his right hand and then closed an invisible zipper over his mouth.

Mom rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smirk at her goofball father.

"Dinner tastes wonderful, Mother. Thank you," she said to Grandma, changing the subject.

"My pleasure, Melissa."

Mom was right -- dinner was really tasty! The four of us kept the conversation to lighter topics while we enjoyed the rest of the meal.

Afterwards, Grandpa read a passage from an old, thick bible and then the accompanying daily devotion from a booklet he'd taken from church. His closing prayer meant that we could be dismissed from the table.

The women did the washing up while Grandpa took me out to the porch to have a word. He opened a wooden box beside his deck chair and brought out a cigar, placing it in his mouth. "Would you like one, son?"

"Uh, no, thanks, Grandpa."

"Come on," he said. "Aren't you a man now?" He struck a match and lit up, puffing the cigar a few times while spinning it slowly in the flame -- feeding the growing cloud of smoke around him.

"Sure, I am. But those aren't good for you, Grandpa." I declined again.

"Atta' boy." He gave my shoulder a punch. "That's what I like to hear. Never let someone pressure you into somethin' ain't right for you." He coughed once or twice and cleared his throat.

We sat together in silence, listening to nothing but the crickets and the women's chattering from the kitchen. It was damn peaceful out here. As a kid, I'd only spent the night a few times and had never realized how beautiful the evenings were. While Grandpa smoked, we looked out over the grassy expanse and the empty highway at the end of the long, dirt driveway. Grandpa's smoke hung in the windless air in a large cloud over the front lawn, illuminated by the fading evening light.

"So here's how it'll be," he began. "We work six days, the two of us. Sundays are for restin', but I still expect you to come to church with your grandmother and I. Your mother'll be there, too, of course. As for the job, you'll start by milking the cows first thing each mornin', you'll have to do that on Sundays, too. I'll teach you how tomorrow. Then we'll get to the planting. It's early in the summer so it's time to get a fresh harvest of beans and carrots in the ground. I'll be teaching you how to use the equipment and a bit about tractor maintenance, as well. There'll be plenty other jobs, and we'll take 'em as they come."

I nodded. Nobody had ever spoken to me this way -- like even though I would have major responsibilities, my grandfather simply believed that I could handle them. I found myself excited to get started, a new level of self-confidence rising up in me.

"As for compensation," he went on. "I can pay you 20 an hour to start, and you can stay here and eat for free. As long as yer willing to work hard, you'll always have a job and place to live."

"Okay, Grandpa."

"Mornings'll be early," he continued. "So we'll be in bed shortly after dark each night. It'll be dinner, maybe a game of cards, and then lights out. You're livin' the farmer's life now, boy. No more partying or late nights in front of the television."

Again, we sat for a few minutes in comfortable silence. A new peaceful feeling crept over me. I felt good here -- like I was where I belonged. I knew Grandpa had just been having fun saying I was a man now and all that, but I was starting to feel like it was true. Suddenly it hit me that if I didn't want to, I'd never need to sit in a classroom again.

"One more thing, son," Grandpa glanced over his shoulder at the front door, making sure the women were still busy inside. "You're a smart lad so you probably already know this, but your mother's going through a tough time right now." He lowered his voice and leaned closer to me. I knew that we were talking man-to-man now. "She'll need our support, for a while anyway. When a woman loses her stability in life, it can be tough for her. You understand?"

"Yeah, Grandpa. I'll do my best to make sure she's okay. I promise."

"Good lad." He took the final puff of his cigar and snuffed it out in a large ashtray. "I'm turning in. You best do the same. I'll get you up in the morning when it's time to meet the cows." A big, rough hand squeezed my shoulder and he was gone.

I sat alone for a while longer, listening to the crickets, before heading inside myself. The kitchen was empty by then so I went straight to the guestroom, just down the hall from the master bedroom where my grandparents slept. Like Grandpa said, I was facing an early wake-up call.

---

After an hour of tossing and turning, I got up to visit the bathroom. On my way back, I decided to creep downstairs on a hunch. As quietly as I could, I descended the creaky stairs into the basement and saw a thin line of light around Mom's bedroom door. She was still awake? Remembering Grandpa's words about taking care of Mom, I knocked lightly.

"Come in," her soft voice rang out.

Anytime I'd ever visited the farm as a kid, this door had always remained closed. I had never even seen inside. Turning the creaky, old fashioned doorknob, I walked in and saw my mother sitting on her bed in the corner of the room. There was a photo album open in front of her and she was wearing an old pair of purple pajamas that I'd never seen before. Maybe they'd been stored here all these years?

"Hey, Mom." My eyes started to dart around the room, taking it all in.

She smiled and closed the album. "Come in and sit down. But close the door first, we don't want to wake Grandma and Grandpa."

I did as she asked, even though my grandparents were upstairs and the master bedroom room was at the opposite corner of the house. They wouldn't hear a thing either way and were probably both sleeping soundly by now.

Entering Mom's room was like walking into a time capsule. Looking around, I could have believed that Grandma and Grandpa hadn't changed a thing in here since she'd moved out nearly two decades ago. I guess having the extra guest bedroom meant that Mom's room never needed to be re-decorated.

Only a few patches of pink paint peeked out between the mosaic of old grunge, punk, and metal band posters that lined almost every square inch of wall. Even the white ceiling had a big, black sheet with exotic designs printed on it tacked up above the bed. There was an old stereo on top of a small book shelf opposite her bed with mountains of CDs piled high on either side. Every direction I looked in I found more visual stimulation. Even her closet door was coated in taped-on pictures or drawings. Was this how all teenage girls decorate their bedrooms? Every surface had magazine clippings, old polaroid photos, or pages from Mom's sketchbook stuck to it, whether it was her shelf, bed frame, or the big mirror over her dresser.

I bent down and looked at the bookshelf under the stereo. Mom must have been a big reader because it was packed full of books and magazines. Most of her collection seemed to consist of poetry anthologies and classic horror literature. Names like Mary Shelly, Bram Stoker, and Edgar Allan Poe jumped out at me as I perused.

Instead of using her small, bedside lamp, Mom had turned on a string of fairy lights ringing the top edge of the walls. I had to admit, they really created a cozy atmosphere. Mom knew how to set the vibe!
I felt a bit stiff as I sat on the bed next to Mom. She lounged crossed-legged, totally at ease in her natural environment and, frankly, looking like a teenager. It was really nice to see her seem so young. Being alone with my mother down in this cozy, farm house basement felt intimate. I liked it.

"Mom, I overheard a bit of your conversation with Dad, um... Richard. I also noticed that you seemed a bit uncomfortable during dinner tonight. You okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Grandpa can be a bit much at times, but I'm used to it."

I was surprised to see her take it so easily. Being back on the farm had obviously been great for Mom.

"And don't worry about what you heard back at the house," she continued. "Richard and I won't be getting back together, but we still respect each other. When the time comes, we'll talk more about it. It's about time you learned the truth, anyways."

"Sometimes I wonder how you ended up marrying him, Mom."

Mom sighed. "I didn't. Richard and I aren't married."

I was shocked. "But... I always thought he was my step father?"

"Well, he is and he isn't. Not officially, anyways. Look, I don't want to discuss it now. We have lots of time to talk about that and I promise I'll tell you everything eventually."

They weren't married? What the hell? Though it was a bombshell, I let it slide, suppressing my urge to pry deeper and accepting that Mom would tell me more when she was ready. Instead, I changed the subject. "What were you looking at before, Mom?"

"This is an old photo album I found in the closet. A lot of my old things are packed away in boxes in there. I've been going through it a bit each night."

"Can I see?" I was dying to know more about Mom's mysterious past.

She opened the album and we began to flip. There were a few pictures of her as a young girl playing on the farm with her parents -- jumping in the hay or sitting on a cow. But as we got closer to the back, Mom got older. As a teenager, she adopted a much different style, wearing a lot of black clothes and dark make up.

I looked closer at a few of the photos, fascinated by what I was seeing. It was tough to wrap my head around the fact that the woman who had birthed and raised me used to dress like this -- with piercings in her face, miniskirts, and torn, thigh-high nylons. She was smoking cigarettes and drinking beer with a group of other, similarly-styled teenagers in a few polaroid photos that looked to have been taken at a house party.

Noticing my fascination, Mom chuckled. "Hard to believe, huh?"

"I'd say. Mom, is this really you?" I pointed at a picture of her raising the middle finger to the camera, her other arm draped around a pink-haired girl who was, at that moment, hitting a bong.

She shrugged and nodded.

I looked back at the photo. I must admit, I've always thought it was kinda hot when girls dressed this way. I'd had crushes on a couple chicks at school who had this style, but had never actually spoken to them. We didn't have much in common. I didn't go to many parties, was never sure how to act at the few I did attend, and as for my clothing style, I just wore whatever fit me -- usually a pair of blue jeans and a plain t-shirt. I wasn't trying to make a big fashion statement. I had the soul of a simple, practical guy -- not unlike Grandpa. But I was still intrigued by the girls who dressed up wild like this and partied. And the photos of Mom were starting to have an effect on me. "How old were you here?"

"Well... that photo was taken just after I got my eyebrow pierced... so I guess I was 18."

18? Wow. Here she was, the same age as me. Doing the math, I realized it wasn't too long after this that she ended up pregnant.

Mom saw the smile on my face as I continued to flip through the album. "You like it?"

"Yeah, Mom, you looked so... expressive."

"I felt repressed out here on the farm -- hardly being able to go out and having to go to church every Sunday. If you think your grandparents are religious now, you should have seen them two decades ago. Insisting that I dressed how I wanted was the only way I could express myself in that environment."

I smiled, happy to understand her better, and drew my finger across the plastic covering of a particular photo. She was wearing a tight, bodice-style top and a short, flared skirt over her fishnet stockings. I had to admit, she looked sexy!

Mom poked my shoulder playfully. "You think I was a cutie, don't you?"

I turned red. "I guess."

"Admit it," she poked me again, laughing. "Was I a hottie?" She raised her eyebrows at me.

I laughed, too, finding my confidence. "You were definitely a hottie, Mom." I had never seen her so playful. It was putting me at ease. "Some might say you still are." I smirked at her.

"Oh, stop it."

"If you went to my school looking like this, I'd probably have a crush on you." Here I was, the guy who gets tongue-tied talking to girls his age, now flirting easily with his own mom!

She burst out laughing. "Well I hope you'd stay away from me. I would have been no good for you, young man." She put her hand on my knee. "You know? I bet I still have some of these outfits. All of my things are in those boxes in the closet. Think I should try to dig them out one of these days?"

Would Mom really dress like this again? That was something I had to see. "For sure, but you better not wear them in front of Grandma and Grandpa."

She giggled. "It would be fun to walk upstairs for breakfast dressed like that, just to see the looks on their faces. But you're right, those outfits would just be for down here. Just for the two of us." She ran her fingers through my hair and her dancing eyes lingered on mine for a moment.

We flipped through a couple more pages in silence while Mom's hand continuing to lightly play with my shaggy hair.

"I used to sneak boys down here back in those days."

"Really?"

"Yup," Mom bit her lip, a mischievous smile spreading across her face. They'd drive out here and park down the road, then come knock quietly on that window up there." She gestured to the small storm window near the ceiling. "I'd open it and they'd crawl in. They'd stay most of the night but they always left before morning. We used to have so much fun. And your grandparents never found out." She giggled.

This was incredible, I'd learned more about Mom today than I had in my entire life! From the sounds of things, she really got a thrill from breaking the rules. I looked around the small, cozy room, picturing my teenage mother goofing around with some lucky guy as he tried to get fresh with her. Then sending him back through that little window a few hours later. After seeing this new side of Mom, I could imagine why those guys were so eager to get some alone time with her. She would have been a lot of fun to date.

Then it hit me that one of those lucky guys was probably my real father. I imagined a 19 year-old version of Mom on her knees over in the center of this very bed -- tight, little, peachy ass raised in the air and purple pajamas around her ankles -- with her rebellious, pink pussy spread open for one of these good-for-nothing losers to shoot his load in while her pious parents slept upstairs.

Then the guy crawled back through that window and disappeared, the deadbeat.

I felt a pang of emotion then and was suddenly thankful for Richard. He may not have done a lot of fatherly stuff, but at least he was there for Mom and I.

Mom slid a little closer to me, resting her head on my shoulder as she flipped another page. I could smell her floral shampoo and wrapped my arm around her as she snuggled closer. Within seconds I was fully erect. I would have thought that I'd be freaked out to be so turned on while cuddling with my Mom, but to my surprise, nothing could have felt more natural. I think Mom's laid-back vibe in this place was contagious because I didn't even feel the urge to hide the outline of my shaft as it sprung up in my loose pajama pants. She must have noticed my arousal, too, because her hand came to rest on my thigh, not more than a few inches away from my throbbing rod. As we sat and cuddled, I could have sworn that her fingers stretched toward my dick once or twice while she lightly scratched my leg, as if she wanted to touch it but didn't quiet have the nerve. God, I wished she would! What was happening to me? I was actually imagining hooking up with my mother!

On the next page she pointed out a few girls and boys in the pictures who were apparently her best friends, telling me a few funny stories about what she'd done with them.

The pink-haired girl, named Jenna, according to Mom, appeared in quite a few pictures. I guess they often hung around together. They were usually touching each other in party photos or kissing the other's cheek for the camera. It was... kinda sexy. I always tried to linger on those photos, wanting to see more of the two of them, but Mom would rush us along.

Before long, we got to the end of the album. I looked at the clock, not believing that it was already past midnight. Mom and I had been looking at pictures for over an hour.

"You better get to bed," she rubbed my arm. Grandpa will be knocking on your door pretty early.

Right. Work. I stood up, suppressing my instinct to hide my erection. Instead, I proudly let my tent point straight forward, showing my mother what she'd done. "Goodnight, Mom."

"Goodnight, honey," she replied, pointedly keeping her eyes on mine until I turned to leave. She stopped me as I approached the door. "Are you going to sneak in again another night?" She winked.

"I don't know, Mom. Won't that be against the rules?"

"That's what would make it fun," she said with a suddenly straight face.

I gestured upward. "Will I need to fit through that window?"

"No, silly," her smile returned. "You're more special than my other boyfriends. You get to use the door. Just make sure you're quiet. We don't want to get in trouble." She bit her lip and grinned.

Leaving Mom's little hide-a-way, I crossed the basement and quietly snuck back upstairs to my new bedroom. The room seemed so plain by comparison, just a simple bed and dresser surrounded by yellow walls.

The mischievous smile Mom had flashed as I left stuck with me while I lay in the dark. Was there still a part of her that enjoyed being a rebel or was she just having fun re-living her youth? It had been a long day and I wasn't sure about much anymore, but I was willing to go along with whatever game she was trying to play if it meant seeing more of this side of her.

---

Bam, Bam, Bam. Grandpa's knocks abruptly pulled me out of my dream.

"Mornin', son! Rise and shine. Grab a coffee and muffin from the kitchen. I'll meet you out in the barn."

"Alright, Grandpa," I muttered through the door, half-awake.

Dragging myself out of bed, I glanced at the red numbers on the digital alarm clock to see that it was 5 AM sharp. Grandpa was a punctual man.

In the barn, Grandpa explained a little more to me about the local milk operation. Years ago, he used to have a few employees helping him with the work. Back then, he'd had over 30 dairy cows. But since downsizing the farm into a single-operator business, and taking on the whole work load himself, he'd begun to keep only seven cows. And true to his word, he introduced me to all of them that first morning.

Milking them was a lot of work, but the job was made much easier with the portable milking machine. All I had to do was push the wheeled contraption over to each cow and hook up the cups to her teats. The machine's vacuum pump did the rest. I felt for the farmers of the old days who had to do this by hand.

Grandpa showed me how to pour what we'd collected from the cows into a large, stainless-steel bulk tank. I was surprised by how much milk we'd gotten from a single session -- not realizing the quantity that healthy holsteins could produce.

"Think you can handle the evening milkin' on your own, son? They'll be ready again just before dinner time."

"Sure, Grandpa." I knew I was a quick learner and was eager to start taking on more duties.

"Good lad."

The two of us sat down to finish our morning coffees while Grandpa told me a bit more about how the business had changed over the years. When he'd decided to let go of his help and start running the place himself, he'd also had to stop pasteurizing, homogenizing, and bottling the milk on-site. Nowadays he sold the raw milk in bulk.

Captivated, I hung onto every word he said. Who would have thought that learning about my family history would be so interesting?

Grandpa said that the milk collection truck wasn't coming until tomorrow and that we still had a lot of chores to get to that day.

It was a long morning full of some of the hardest labor I'd ever done, but dammit it felt good to start the day with some honest work, and by lunch hour, Grandpa and I were grinning and laughing together as we made our way back to the house to see what Grandma had on the menu.

Mom was sitting with her mother in the kitchen.

"There's my girls!" Grandpa leaned down and kissed each one.

Following Grandpa's lead, I did the same, first pecking my beaming grandmother on the cheek before turning to Mom. There was an awkward moment as I briefly hesitated before leaning down and kissing Mom beside her mouth. I had never done that before.

"You two lunks smell like farm animals," Grandma teased. "Go wash up and then come sit down for some chicken soup." It was clear that we were in her domain now.

In the afternoon, the women drove into town to do some shopping while Grandpa and I headed back to the barn.

"That storm last year brought down an old pine out back," he gestured to a pile of short, thick logs. "I sawed it up, but I'll need you to start splitting it this afternoon. You know how to use one of these?" He passed me a heavy ax with a wide head.

"I think I've seen it done a few times."

"Well you better let me show you. Your mother would kill me if I let you lose a toe out here."

After a quick ax safety lesson, Grandpa left me to the work. I was at it for the rest of the afternoon and, I'm happy to say, that by five o'clock I was standing beside an impressive pile of firewood. Grandpa gave me a proud thump on the back when he saw the mountain I'd created.

"You're a natural out here, boy. Just like I was at your age." His voice boomed. "Lord have mercy, I was strong in those days!"

After taking care of the final milking session, we called it day, finally hitting the showers and sitting down for family dinner.

After getting a few bites of steamy roast beef into my empty stomach, the words started to fly out of my mouth. I happily told my mother and grandma all about my big day working with Gramps. I recounted everything from start to finish -- how the milking machine worked, preparing the soil for the carrots and beans, how the storm had brought down the pine and how I'd split the logs. I didn't intend to share so much, but it just came spilling out.

"The lad's got farming' in his blood!" Grandpa shouted from the head of the table, wiping gravy from his chin.

I caught Mom's gaze then and we shared a moment, the two of us. Her eyes twinkled and a shy smile flashed across her face.

After dinner, devotions, and prayer, the four of us played a game of euchre. Already being seated across from each other, Mom and I teamed up against the older generation. We tried hard, but we were ultimately defeated -- unable to beat the veteran players.

After the dishes were taken care of, we each retired to our rooms. I fully intended to wait a while and then sneak back down to the basement to see what Mom was up to, but the second my head hit the pillow, I was sleeping like a log.

---

Grandpa's knock came again at 5 AM on the nose. Being the second day in a row, the reality of my new existence struck me. This was going to be a long summer. As much as I enjoyed the work, I would never get used to the early mornings.

That day was the same, we started with the cows and then sat down to finish our coffees while Grandpa told me more about our plans for the day. Since we'd prepared the soil for the carrots and beans yesterday -- tilling the earth, picking out the stones and weeds, and testing the pH levels -- we were ready to start planting.

The area we'd sectioned off for the vegetables was huge, so even with the push seeder, it took most of the morning to plant and water the seeds. By the time we returned to the house for lunch, I had a whole new respect for the people who produce our country's food supply.

With dirt up to our elbows, Grandpa and I sprayed ourselves and our boots off with the garden hose before entering Grandma's kitchen, lest she throw us right back out again.

Mom was already sitting at the kitchen table, having a coffee and wearing a proper, brown house dress that flared out around her knees. It was something Grandma would wear. It was interesting seeing her dressed like a farmer's wife after the photos I'd seen the other night. There were a lot of sides to my mother and I was looking forward to seeing more of them. I leaned down to peck her cheek again, this time without hesitation. The shampoo in her brown hair smelled great. She angled her face slightly, making it easier for me to kiss her.

"Good lad," Grandpa said after kissing his own woman, seeing my initiative to greet my mother properly.

We switched ladies and I kissed Grandma, too, then asked, "so what's for lunch?"

"Nothing until you wash your hands properly, young man." Grandma's scolding tone was playful.

I washed with soap in the bathroom and came back to a large, chicken sandwich waiting for me. Boy, was I ever a lucky guy.

After lunch, Grandpa went and laid down on the couch. After a few minutes, he was snoring gently. I looked at Grandma, puzzled.

She put her hand on my arm, speaking softly. "He's been pushing himself pretty hard, dear. He's getting older and, truth be told, I think it's been tough for him since taking over all the operations himself. He's been needing his afternoon naps recently."

I nodded. To be honest, I had been surprised that a man his age could have been working this hard and putting in so many long hours.

Grandma went and refilled my coffee cup before continuing. "I hope you know how much he appreciates having you here with him. And I appreciate it, too. I've been worried about him taking on the whole workload himself. He's not a young man anymore. But I don't think he realizes that." She looked concerned.

"Don't worry, Grandma," I reassured her. "I'll keep an eye on him. If he's pushing himself too much I'll tell him to take a break."

"Thank you, dear," Grandma thanked me warmly. "Now I need to lay down for my own nap." With that, she retired to her bedroom.

Mom and I were left alone at the dining room table, sipping our afternoon coffees. I found myself appreciating the way she looked in the bright afternoon sun. There was a glow to her, not unlike what I'd seen the other day on the car ride.

"You like my dress, don't you?" She smirked at me.

"It fits you nicely, Mom." Although caught off guard, I tried to speak with confidence the way Grandpa did. "The color matches your hair."

Mom actually blushed a little, her shy smile returning. "You know, your grandmother actually sewed this dress herself?"

"Really?" Wow, was there anything Grandma couldn't make?

"Yup. It makes her happy when I wear it." She shrugged then went on, "back when I was younger, she taught me to sew, too. That's how I knew how to modify and make some of my own outfits."

"Speaking of your outfits," I glanced over at Grandpa to make sure he was still snoring. "Did you find any?" I raised my eyebrows suggestively.

Mom gave me a nonchalant shrug. "If you sneak down again you'll find out." She took a sip from her mug, eyeing me.
I didn't respond immediately, taking a relaxed sip from my own coffee first. "I don't know if your parents would approve of that, young lady. I don't want to get you in trouble."

Mom tried and failed to suppress a giggle. "There won't be any trouble if we don't get caught."

"Then I'll see you tonight."

Mom grinned. "It's a date."

Now finished conspiring with my mother, I went back out to the barn while Grandpa continued his nap. I found a dry place underneath an overhanging part of the eaves to start stacking all the wood I had split yesterday. Then I got back to splitting the logs I hadn't finished with the day before. The labor allowed my mind to settle and I began to imagine how things would go later on with Mom. Would we cuddle and look at more photos? Would we do more? Just the thought of being alone with her again had my dick filling with blood. I couldn't believe my own mom was giving me butterflies!

Around the time I was finishing up, the milk collection truck arrived.

A little unsure of what to do, I explained to the driver that I was the new help and hadn't learned how to drain the collection tank yet. To my relief, he told me not to worry. He'd been picking up the milk from my Grandpa for over a year and knew how to do it himself.

After testing the batch, he connected a hose and drained out our tank. I signed the paperwork, attesting to the quantity collected, and he was off.

I was surprised that Grandpa stayed inside the house all afternoon. He must have been really tired. I guess yesterday was a big day for him, too. It's true that all this labor must have been a little much for an older man.

Knowing the schedule, I took the initiative to milk the cows again at five o'clock and then went inside for dinner. Grandpa was awake again and I told him about what I'd done.

He squeezed my shoulder proudly. "Good lad."

During our meatloaf dinner I, once again, regaled the wide-eyed women with tales of the big day of farm work.

"I wish I could have been out there with you, son," Grandpa said, appearing downcast.

"Don't worry, Grandpa. We'll be back out there first thing in the morning," I offered, hoping to cheer him up.

"I wouldn't miss it, son. Not for the world."

After eating, Grandpa found his gusto once more and read our nightly bible passage and devotional with passion. Then he delivered a heartfelt prayer, thanking the Lord for our health and good fortune, before asking God to shine favor on this year's harvest.

After the table was cleared and the dishes washed, we each retired, bidding each other goodnight.

---

I managed to wait a whole hour before crawling out of bed, tip-toeing down those pesky, creaky stairs, and knocking on Mom's door.

I heard some shuffling inside and a moment later she opened the door for me, rushing me inside the dimly-lit room, as if there was a hurry, before quietly pushing the door shut behind me and silently closing the latch.

"Shhhhh." The girl in front of me put her fingers to her lips before grabbing my sides and backing us up toward her bed. "I'm not allowed to have boys down here." She grinned mischievously.

If the other night was like entering a time capsule, tonight felt like using a time machine. Mom had utterly transformed. She was the 18 year-old girl I'd seen in those photos. She'd even done her makeup, wearing dark eyeliner and lipstick with some subtle pale foundation.

She wore the dark black, gothic style bodice top, held up by two thin shoulder straps. It hugged her thin waist tightly and accentuated her small chest beautifully. Her toned legs were wrapped in fishnet stockings which ended around mid-thigh, showing a few inches of pale, white skin disappearing under the pleats of her checkered black and dark red miniskirt.

The only clue that Mom hadn't literally become her younger self was her hair -- still auburn rather than dyed black. Nevertheless, Mom looked even sexier than she had in the photos!

Noticing my appreciation, she spun me and pushed me onto her bed so that I was laying back, propped up on my elbows. Then she climbed onto me, straddling me and leaning down to bring her face mere inches from my own, biting her lip before whispering. "My mom and dad would be so mad if they knew what we were doing." She hesitated one second before appearing to make a decision then kissed me full on the mouth and set her weight down on top of me -- feeling, without a doubt, my stiffening dick against her butt.

I began kissing her back, forgetting how strange this all was and sliding my hands to her thin waist. When I gripped her hips she opened her mouth, letting our tongues briefly meet before she pulled back and sat up on my lap.

Squirming back and forth a bit, she asked, "I guess you like it, then? The outfit?" She blatantly tested my hardness with her butt.

Unable to form a sentence, I managed to stammer, "Mom?"

"Sorry, honey," she climbed off of me, giggling. She took a moment to stare down at the tent in pajama pants before continuing. "I guess I got a bit carried away. Dressing like this is really bringing me back."

She sprung up and walked over to her stereo. "You wanna' listen to some music?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Uh... sure." This was going a little differently than I had been expecting, but I sure as hell was not complaining. If Mom wanted to get in character and have some fun with the boy she'd snuck in, I could play along.

She took a minute to look through her CDs before putting on Jar of Flies by Alice in Chains -- keeping the volume low. The ambient electric guitar of the first track filled the room as she turned back to me, her eyes boring into mine. "Move back there," she said, pointing to her headboard.

I did as she told me, sliding backward into the pile of pillows she kept on her bed.

She climbed up to join me, standing on her knees as she walked toward me and straddling me again. She sat her bum down on my thighs, her skirt billowing out around her and covering my rod. She lifted up my hands, inspecting them and fingering my blisters with a motherly look of concern. "You know, these hands are going to end up all rough and calloused soon. Just like my dad's." She placed my hands on her sides then and smiled when I took the hint and firmly gripped her little waist. "But that's okay. Us gals like big, farmer hands."

I said nothing, letting her have the lead.

Her fingertips ran up and down my arms. "You know," she began. "Maybe it was because I always saw my father taking care of the farm, day after day, and maybe that put an idea in my head of what a man ought to be like... but I've always had a thing for a hard working farmer. I... always ended up with crushes on the country boys I went to school with. They had big arms. Like yours." She squeezed my biceps. "You're a lot like him, you know? My dad, I mean. I can't believe I didn't see it before now." She leaned forward, bringing her face close to mine again. "It's made me real proud seeing you working hard like this."

"Yeah?" My hands slid from her sides, down over her hips and onto her white thighs, resting on her fishnet stockings and toying with the hem of her skirt.

"Mhmmm," she nuzzled her face beside mine. She kissed the nape of my neck when my fingers slid a little up her legs, underneath her skirt. "You've got me all night, farmer boy," she whispered into my ear. "What do you want to do?"

Well, by this point, I certainly knew the answer to that question and I brought my mouth to hers, gently squeezing her legs at the same time. She was eager to return the kiss, opening her mouth and letting her delicious tongue snake into the action. I never would have imagined how naturally Mom and I could slip into a passionate make out.

A lot was communicated through our fiery kiss. Any lingering teenage shyness I may have felt about touching my mom evaporated as I chased her tongue past her lips. My hands left her thighs and slid up to the middle of her slender back, pulling her into me as I mouthed her and wordlessly telling her that I wanted her. Her response came as a deep moan into my mouth as she hungrily kissed me back harder, communicating the same and telling me with her body that she was ready to be more than a mother to me.

When my hands slid lower, rising up over her round ass and gently squeezing she pulled away, placing her hand on my chest and gently pushing me back down into her mountain of assorted pillows. "Looks like somebody's a little eager," she panted. "There's no rush, farmer boy."

She backed up off of me, sitting cross-legged near my feet. Dammit! Had I blown it already?

"You want to look at some more pictures? I found some more old albums when I was looking for my outfits."

Mom was beginning to seem a little all over the place -- getting hot then cold. But after having a little taste, I knew I wanted more. And I could tell from the way Mom'd kissed me that there was a part of her that was just as eager as I was. But she was a puzzle and I would need the right combination to open her up. For the time being, I'd go along with whatever she suggested -- as long as it kept me in this room with her longer. "Yeah, Mom. Let's look at them."

She went over to her shelf and picked up another photo album before returning and laying down on her stomach next to me. She put the album on the pillows, propped herself up on her elbows, and opened the album to the first page.

I lay on my side, leaning on my left elbow. Though I began by looking at the photos, I ended up paying more attention to Mom's body than to the pictures she was telling me about. My eyes explored down her back to her little waist, hugged tightly by her corset, before scanning up over her butt rounding up her sexy skirt. Her stockinged feet twirled in the air wistfully above her bent knees. I placed my right hand on her low back, beginning to rub slowly up and down her spine while listening to her stories. After a few minutes I knew it was time to test the waters again and slid my hand right up onto her ass, really appreciating the firmness of her little white globes but fearing another rebuff.

Mom simply flipped the page and pointed excitedly at a new picture, paying me no mind and diving into the accompanying story.

I left my hand sitting motionless atop her rump for a full minute before beginning to make small circles, gently testing the shape of each cheek. Every time that my fingers slid back and forth across her valley I was able to form a better mental image of the beautiful ass beneath the pleats of Mom's skirt.

The expected reprimand never arrived, even when my hand left her behind and continued down the back of her left hamstring,, stopping to gently scratch the small expanse of bare skin above her stocking.

I reached all the way to the back of her knee before sliding across to her far leg. Then I began the return journey, slowing as I crossed the two inches of creamy skin before ascending her rump. Stopping at her summit I made a few small circles, once again loving the feel of her firm buns through her skirt material. I continued, dragging my fingertips along her spine all the way to her shoulders before changing direction and traveling the same path again. Five times I made the journey, never rushing, and always stopping to enjoy an extra moment on the summit of her bum.

Mom finished her current story and before she could start another I interjected with a question. "So what did you do with them down here?"

"With who?"

"You know, the guys you used to sneak in."

"Oh!" She giggled. "Well... sometimes we'd just talk, maybe listen to some music. They knew that Jenna and I used to take a lot of polaroids at the parties, so we'd usually look at the latest ones together. This was before social media, you know?"

My hand was just leaving her butt, moving downward to rest on her hamstring. I kept it there while I spoke, letting my fingertips explore a little further between her thighs. "Is that it? What else did you do?"

Mom eyed me. "I'm sure you can imagine what else..."

"Tell me, Mom." I spoke confidently, the way I'd been learning from Grandpa, and fighting the temptation to flick her skirt up off of her ass.

"I always liked kissing them down here. But you've probably already figured that out, haven't you?" She poked me playfully.

Taking my opening, I leaned in to kiss her again and we started another brief snog while my fingers trailed a little deeper between her legs, even a little ways up under her skirt. God, I wanted to shove my hand right up there and dig my fingers into her bare crack! But I resisted, not wanting to risk the progress I was making. Instead, I broke the kiss, pulling back and continuing my line of questioning.

"What else, Mom? Those guys didn't come down here just to kiss, did they?"

She was looking a bit flushed despite her pale make up. "No, they usually had some naughtier ideas in their heads. Sometimes they wanted to do more than kiss -- especially the older guys. Sometimes I let them."

"What did they do, Mom?" I continued to push, noticing Mom's breathing getting heavier.

"Well... when we laid here together, in my bed, talking or looking at pictures, they'd try to touch me." She shot me a challenging glance. "Does that sound familiar?"

I smiled shamelessly at her, making no effort to hide my forwardness. "I don't blame them, Mom." My fingers snuck farther up her skirt, toying with the very bottoms of her cheeks. I was so close!

Mom dropped the teenager act completely, bringing out her mother voice. "Something tells me this isn't the first time you've snuck in to a girl's room, yourself, young man."

I didn't relent. My hand crept completely under her skirt and up onto her right cheek. "Yeah? What makes you say that?"

"You seem to know what you're doing, is all," she panted, lifting her butt up against me.

I was fully cupping her cheek now -- bare, skin-on-skin contact with my mother's perfect ass. Surprisingly, I detected no panties until sliding all the way to the top. Mom must have been wearing a thong, and a tiny one at that. "Did you like it when they touched you, Mom? On your legs? And your butt?"

Mom closed her eyes and rested her head on her pillow. "Yes," she whispered, raising her hips once more against my hand.

I was already making large circles, covering her entire ass. As my hand slid from cheek to cheek, my fingertips would drop momentarily into her crack, feeling the fabric of her thong-panties deep within her crevice! I wanted even more, to slide down to her crotch and cup her pussy. But I sensed that she was on the verge of stopping me again and pumped the brakes before she needed to. I knew I had plenty of time.

"Show me the next page, Mom." My hand left her skirt, sliding back down to rest risk-free on her hamstrings.

Mom flipped to the second last page in the book, revealing a set of photos taken of her and Jenna hanging out together in this very room. Mom was wearing tight black jeans with holes torn all the way up the fronts of them and a dark, lacy halter top that showed her toned belly and plenty of cleavage. She also wore black, fingerless gloves which extended as arm sleeves up to her elbows. Her nails were painted black, as well, and, like always, she wore dark eyeliner and lipstick in the same style as tonight.

Jenna also wore sleeve-gloves and a similar halter top to Mom's, but with a black miniskirt. She had a nice, body as well. If I had to guess from the few photos I had seen of her, I'd say that her waist might not have been quiet as small as Mom's, but her tits were definitely a bit bigger.

It looked as if they had been putting on a fashion show for each other, taking turns posing and snapping photos of the other girl. A few pictures were taken of both of them together selfie-style by their outstretched arms. It looked like they were having a lot of fun, laughing, grinning, and kissing each other's cheeks for the camera.

Mom smiled, appearing totally absorbed in the images on this page. "I remember this day," she spoke wistfully. "I knew these photos would turn up eventually." She gave me a look before continuing. "I have a feeling that you're going to like the next page."

"Show me."

Mom flipped the page.

I couldn't believe my eyes. Mom and Jenna were both topless, snapping a selfie together while looking seductively at the camera. My theory that Jenna had the larger chest was confirmed as I took in her 18 year-old globes, topped with big, pink nipples. In contrast, Mom's boobs were smaller, but again, they matched her petite frame perfectly. Her nipples were a darker red in color and, being young and perky, pointed slightly upward toward the ceiling. I loved them!

Below the first photo was another which featured the two girls kissing full on the mouth! It didn't appear to be a quick peck or simply done to snap a fun photo. No, it looked like they had been sharing a passionate moment, alone in this room, just the two of them, and wanted to preserve it for themselves.

Mom closed the book, pulling me out of my trance. "Told you," she smirked, looking a bit embarrassed.

"Mom, let me see that page again!"

"Nope," she tossed the album onto the floor. "You boys are all the same, you know?" She sat up. "It's getting late and I need to get out of this makeup before sleeping. Don't go anywhere, okay?"

"Alright, Mom."

Hesitating before leaving for the bathroom, Mom knelt and picked up the album. She handed it back to me. "Go ahead and have fun with this while I'm gone," she winked and snuck out the door, shutting off the stereo on her way out.

Immediately I opened it up to that final page, scanning and memorizing every detail of the two topless beauties. Both of them were gorgeous girls, especially Mom. Thoughts of getting my mouth over those hard, red nipples filled my mind. And after the way Mom had acted tonight, I knew I could do it!

Mom came back from the basement bathroom a few minutes later and, with a face washed clean of her make up, she had transformed back into the woman who had raised me, save for the outfit. I was still staring at the intimate lesbian photo -- dying to know more about who Jenna was -- when she snatched the album away and closed it again. "I hope you enjoyed that, farmer boy."

I couldn't stop smiling. "You had a really nice pair, Mom. Do they still look like that?"

"Maybe, but I don't think boys are supposed to be asking their mothers questions like that." She put her hand on her hip as she appraised me and my shamelessly bulging pajama pants.

I sat up straight, leaning back against her pillows. "But we're not the type of mother and son who follow the rules, are we?"

Mom looked me up and down, saying nothing for a moment. Then she turned around and spoke, looking back over her right shoulder at me. "I'm not going to sleep in this outfit, so you better close your eyes so I can change." She bent forward then and opened the bottom drawer of her dresser to pull out a pink nightie then looked back at me and waited.

"Okay, Mom." I let her see me shutting my eyes. After waiting a few seconds I heard some shuffling and opened them a crack. Mom was beginning to change and, luckily for me, she was facing away from me. I guess she was just trusting that I would obey her request. Feeling guilty, but being powerless to stop myself, I opened my eyes fully.

Mom reached both her hands behind her back to slowly unclasp the clips securing her bodice. It hung momentarily by the thin shoulder straps before she peeled it off of her front and set it on a chair beside her closet door. I eyed Mom's slender back as she stood topless, hoping she'd turn around so I could see her goods even though it would mean that I'd be busted for peaking. But instead, she raised her left leg to set her foot on the chair before slowly rolling the fishnet stockings down to her feet and peeling them off. She repeated this process for her right leg. Then she stood up straight up again before reaching back and unzipping her miniskirt, allow it to slide down over her hips. Strangely, instead of just letting it drop, she arched her back and bent forward to sensually push it down her legs. Her movements were slow and deliberate and she moved as if she had all the time in the world.
I watched, mesmerized, as the two glorious white cheeks I had been playing with came into view. Topped only in a little, black thong, Mom's ass and legs were an absolute work of art.

After pushing her skirt all the way to the carpet Mom didn't immediately stand up again. Instead, she clasped her ankles before sensually dragging her hands up the backs of each leg while she slowly stood back up. When her hands reached her butt, she momentarily pulled her cheeks apart before allowing her firm glutes to snap back together. What a tight body! Nobody who saw this woman nude would believe she had ever given birth.

She then picked up the pink nightie, bunching it up and sliding each arm into its hole before pulling it over her head and holding it below her armpits. Then, like a curtain lowering after a theatrical performance, she dropped it, letting it fall to mid-hamstring. Surprising me once again, she still didn't turn around. Instead, her hands slid up the sides of her legs under the pink hem, hooking something, and then sliding back down again. I watched, transfixed, as Mom bent forward one more time to push her panties down to the carpet. She stepped out of them before adding them and her skirt to the pile of clothes on her chair. Never once during this whole process had she looked back at me.

"You can open your eyes now, honey." She spoke softly while continuing to gently smooth her nightie down over her butt.

"Okay, Mom."

She turned around wearing her shy smile, appearing a little self-conscious.

I tried my best to act like I was just seeing her slip pajamas for the first time as she walked to the corner of the room to flick off the ring of fairy lights, casting us in darkness. I tried to see her chest before the lights went out and I noticed that her nipples were hard and poking through the thin material.

Mom made her way to the bed and lay down beside me, resting her head on my right arm which was laid out along the pillows. Now that it was dark, Mom's voice became a whisper. "Sometimes the boys who visited me would spend the night here and leave early in the morning, before your grandpa found them. I always liked being cuddled. It helped me fall asleep."

I pushed the covers down to our ankles before pulling the sheet up over us. Turning my body toward hers I set my left hand on her hip, pinching the thin material of her nightie and guiding her toward me.

She wiggled her butt backward, against my wood, and we lay together tightly spooning in the dim moonlight.

"So Grandpa never found a boy down here? You never got caught?"

"Heavens, no. He would have killed both of us. Nope, the only person who my parents ever let sleep down here was Jenna."

Trusting my hunch, I took a chance. "But that's only because they didn't know that you and Jenna were doing more than sleeping. Right, Mom?"

Mom's answer came slowly and was barely whispered. "Yes."

I tenderly kissed her throat while letting my left hand slide down her thigh, off of her nightie, and then back up, stopping at her hem with only my thumb poised to slip underneath. "Tell me more about her."

Mom became shy. "I don't know, honey."

"She was important to you, wasn't she?"

"Yeah."

"A best friend?"

"Yes."

"And at times... more than a friend?"

Hesitation, then a whispered, "...yes."

"Tell me about your first time with her." I kissed Mom's throat again. Using my thumb to lift up her hem, I slid my fingers underneath as well, preparing my next move.

Mom didn't speak right away, but I gave her time, knowing she was searching for the words to share an intimate story.

"It was the night you saw, the photo session we did here. She dared me to go topless for the camera, talking about how nice my body was and all that, saying she'd do it, too. Of course, she convinced me. She always did."

My hand crawled up her leg to rest on her bare hip. I was hyper aware of her perfect cheeks just inches away, and this time, pantiless.

"After we took the first photo together, and were waiting for it to develop, she turned to me and touched my boobs, running her fingers over my nipples. It felt wonderful. She took my hand in hers and put it on her own chest. Her breasts felt so big. I'd never touched another girl before, not like that..."

Mom's hips squirmed harder against me as she shared her story, pressing backward and pinching my pajama-covered rod between her cheeks. I held her hip firmly and grinded against her ass, trying not to cum. Christ, I wanted her. I was imagining fucking my Mom!

She continued the story. "Suddenly she was kissing me. And I was kissing her back. I couldn't help it. She was so soft and so tender. It was much different than kissing a boy. I remember that it went on for a long time. Then I heard the click and saw the flash. Jenna had picked up the camera and taken a photo. That's the one you saw."

I was kissing mom's neck again, curling my right hand around her body to rest on her stomach before beginning to slide it upward, toward her chest.

"That night we shared this bed, cuddling as we slept like we had so many times before." Mom breathed heavily as her story went on. "We woke up in the night and I turned to her, then we were kissing again. Only this time, it meant something more. There was a hunger behind it. Her hands slid down my body, into my panties. Oh, I was so wet that night."

At the same time that I slid my right hand over her left tit, cupping her boob for the first time and feeling her rock-hard nipple pushing into my palm, my left hand slid forward from her hip to begin digging between her thighs -- searching for what Jenna had found.

"People always thought I was the more wild one, but they were wrong. It was her. She was the one who'd always push us to go further -- and I'd always let her."

Mom turned a little bit toward me, resting her left leg between mine and spreading herself to let my fingertips slide through her trimmed patch of fur. My right hand continued to gloriously cup and massage her firm tit.

"Jenna knew how to touch me, warming me up first and then pushing inside at the perfect moment. She wasn't clumsy like the boys. No, she knew exactly what I needed. Her fingers felt like magic between my legs."

When I strummed my fingers across Mom's erect nipple again, she moaned and rolled her hips, turning fully onto her back. My left hand slid down through her moist bush and over her pussy, not stopping until my middle finger had passed through the length of her moistening slit and was pressing on her perineum. I possessively cupped my entire hand over her cunt, firmly pressing against her.

"Kiss me, honey," Mom gasped as she fisted my hair and pulled me down to her, joining our lips and wildly pushing her tongue into my mouth.

I slid my hand higher again, dipping my middle finger against her vagina as I dragged it through her wet lips and stopped to press against her engorged clitoris. "Tell me more, Mom," I whispered to her as I made small circles.

"She-- oh, honey-- she licked me that night! I... I came so hard when she pushed her tongue into me. And then, I did the same to her. I-- I went down on her... a woman, for the first time! Oh, Jeremy!"

Mom moaned again when I added some pressure, going back down to scoop up more lubricant from her hole before continuing to rub little circles on her button with two fingers. Her panting rose in crescendo as she mentally relived one of the most significant nights of her life.

I knew she was ready and moved the tip of my middle finger to press and wait against her opening. "Do you miss her, Mom? Do you miss your secret lover?"

"Yes!" She gasped as my finger pushed inside, digging into her several times before retreating and coming back, joined by a second digit.

She inhaled sharply as I penetrated her, hooking my two fingers upward to rub along the sensitive roof of her tunnel. I pulled them back and then pushed in again -- finger-fucking her, finger-fucking my mother as she writhed her hips against my knuckles.

Story time was over. I shoved my tongue into Mom's mouth while she grasped my wrist and pulled me harder into her, wanting to feel me deep inside.

Mom kissed me back ferociously. I had never had a girl this horny before and I knew that Mom was in for a hell of a climax. I pressed my thumb against her clit while I continued my fingering and Mom's moaning turned into constant heavy panting noises. She was so close to the edge!

I still wanted to see her boobs and awkwardly tugged upward on her nightie with my right hand. Knowing what I was trying to do, Mom leaned forward and grabbed it herself before pulling it up over her head. Her two firm, little tits were bared to me, each topped with a pert nipple in the dim light. I brought my face forward, licking across the pointy apex of her left breast before sucking it firmly into my mouth.

My tongue on her nipple sent Mom over the edge and she clamped her legs together around my hand, pulling my head against her chest with a tight handful of my hair. Thank God Grandma and Grandpa were semi-deaf, because Mom was totally incapable of suppressing her moans and she rode out the waves of her climax.

As she was coming down from her peak, her hand slid down my stomach and over my pajamas, searching for my shaft. I was already on the verge of exploding when her fingertips finally grazed me. A moment later I detonated, wasting my copious load into my boxer shorts. Her hand pulled away after my grunts subsided.

Mom and I lay together in silence for a few minutes. When I suspected that she had begun to sleep I extricated myself from under the sheets and made my way out the door and to the stairs. Then her words returned to me.

I always liked being cuddled.

A moment later I was sneaking back into her room and slipping under the covers beside her.

"When boys would stay the night and cuddle, they'd always have to make sure they left early in the morning, before Grandpa got up," she whispered.

I leaned across my mother and set her alarm clock for 4:45 AM -- just before Gramps would be knocking on my door so that we could see to the cows.

Mom pulled the sheet up to our necks and turned onto her side, dragging my left hand around her and pressing it against her chest. I opened my palm, supporting her right tit in my hand. No more words were spoken as we drifted to sleep.

---

It felt as if only five minutes had passed when Mom's alarm sounded, violently dragging me out of a pleasant dream. I reached across Mom and shut it off before groggily rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

I must admit, my nude mother smiling up at me wasn't a bad sight to wake up to. But I had little time to enjoy it. I needed to be back in my room before Grandpa came looking for me.

I left her room as quietly as I could, creeping back up the stairs I attempted the impossible task of avoiding any creaky steps. Through the kitchen I went and down the hall, already hearing the stirrings of my grandfather as he dressed in his own bedroom.

I had just gotten my door closed when I heard his open. He went into the kitchen first, starting the coffee pot before returning and knocking on my door.

"Be right there, Grandpa," I said, as I peeled last night's hardened, jizz-stained boxers off of myself.

I went to the bathroom to freshen up before changing into my work jeans, pounding a quick cup of coffee, and heading out the door. The sun was just peaking up over the horizon as I walked out to the barn. Catching the daily sunrise really was a hell of a reward for getting up early.

After seeing to the cows, Grandpa told me that it was time for me to learn about the daily care that the chickens need. He explained how we need to open the coop each morning to let the chickens out and collect any eggs that were laid over night. Then he showed me how to clean out the water containers before refilling them along with the food trough. He told me that at night we'd have to make sure we got all of the chickens back inside to keep them safe from predators. By the time we were finished with the lesson it was nearly 10 o'clock.

Just as we stepped out of the barn we saw Mom coming toward us holding a tray with coffee and biscuits on it.

"You boys ready for a break?" She asked, smiling. She really looked the part of a farm girl, the straps of her checkered dress tied up in bows over each shoulder.

"Are we ever!" Grandpa boomed behind me. "Boy, are we ever lucky to have a lovely gal like you around here, sweetheart." He kissed his daughter's rosy cheek.

Looking vibrant, Mom joined us as we had our coffee, the three of us sitting together. Her face glowed in the morning sunlight. When Grandpa turned away to gather up a few tools I leaned over to her, brushing her hair behind her ear and kissing her once on the cheek. Then, double checking that Grandpa wasn't looking, planted one more quick kiss on Mom's throat.

Strangely, she rebuffed me and turned away. "No, honey. Not here."

So Mom only wanted to "break the rules" when we were downstairs in her room? Her coldness struck me deeply. It really was as if she transformed into a different person down there. Or perhaps she just needed the security her bedroom offered in order to be free with me. Either way, I knew better than to take the rejection personally.

When Mom took our empty mugs and started back toward the house I watched her walk away, admiring her backside in her form-fitting dress -- probably another that had been sewn by Grandma. Memories of sliding my hand across those sweet buns came back to me and for the rest of the long day I thought of little more than when I'd be able to sneak back down to our secret, little hide-a-way.

---

The next morning was Sunday. I can't say that I was overly keen on going to church, but everyone in the household was required to attend. There was simply no way around it.

Like Grandpa had told me, we didn't work on Sundays -- other than feeding all the animals and milking the cows. They didn't know about the day of worship and just kept on producing. It would have been nice to have at least one morning to sleep in, but my body was basically programmed to wake up at 5 AM now, anyways.

After heading back inside and changing into my church clothes, the four of us sat down for breakfast.

While we ate, Grandpa explained that their pastor, who had been with the church for over a decade, had recently been called by God to seed a new church in the Philippines. The congregation had been upset by his departure, but had accepted it as God's will. Since then a few different guests had been giving the sermons. But now the church had finally selected a new permanent pastor, a young man recently out of the seminary. Grandpa explained that we'd be hearing from him for the first time today and that he was excited to see his preaching style.

I hadn't been exposed to much religion growing up. Before this, I had only ever been to a couple of services when I'd visited Grandma and Grandpa. Mom had stopped going to church out of protest after moving out and didn't teach me much about Jesus. As for Richard, he was the atheist type and had never once mentioned God to me. I wasn't necessarily an unbeliever, myself. After seeing the beauty of nature and the organization in the animal kingdom, I knew there needed to be a designer. But I still had my doubts about the whole organization of religion that seemed to be so important to older generations. Given that this new pastor was a young guy, too, I suppose I was curious how things would go today.

We all wore our Sunday best for the occasion -- Grandpa in a suit with his hair neatly combed and Grandma in a long green skirt. Mom's knee-length, navy blue dress had a high neck line and modest sleeves to her elbows. The dress had lacy ties around the waist that kept it tight to her torso but let its ruffled hem hang loosely around her legs. As for myself, I didn't own a suit, but I had my best shirt tucked in to my trousers and after breakfast I went to the bathroom to comb my hair just like Grandpa's.

I sat in the back seat of the car with Mom, admiring her as she gazed out the window at the rolling hillsides. I had intended to visit her again the night before after my grandparents had fallen asleep, but had decided to give her some space after the admonishment she'd given me out at the barn.

We arrived and shuffled into the church, shaking hands with the greeters at the front door. Then I stood next to Grandma and Grandpa in the lobby as they spoke with their friends. A few of them claimed to remember me, saying that they hadn't seen me since I was a youngster. I must admit, I liked the warm feeling I got from the place. Everyone here was friendly, well-dressed country folk. After a few minutes of socializing we found our seats.

We finished singing a few praise songs and the new pastor took to the pulpit to deliver his message. He began with an introduction and then shared his view of the world. In his opinion, it had never been so apparent that our society had fallen. He discussed the clear influence of the devil in our world and talked about the sexual depravity that had been normalized. Most of his message centered on a need to return to purity and traditional family values.

His message seemed to land with most of the congregation. As I looked around the room I saw many heads nodding along. Then I looked at my own family, wanting to gauge their reaction. I noted that Grandma appeared uncomfortable, squirming a little as if she couldn't settle in. I saw Mom look downward and shake her head a few times at some of the pastor's stronger words. Grandpa, on the other hand, sat up straight and tall, grinning proudly as he absorbed the young man's message.

I, myself, was skeptical of the sermon. Was it really a sin to indulge in sex? Why would our Creator have put sex in our nature if our urges were something to be resisted and ashamed of?

The service ended with a few more worship songs and after a cup of coffee and a little more socializing we piled back into the car. The ride home consisted mostly of Grandpa praising the new preacher. "That boy's got his head on straight," he said. The women notably stayed quiet and I merely observed.

---

Later that afternoon, Grandma and Grandpa informed us that we'd been invited over to a neighbor's household to have soup and buns. We were going to discuss the morning's message.

Intrigued, I opened my mouth to confirm whether I could come. It would be interesting to see another farm and ask how they ran things over there. "Yeah, that would be--"

"You two go ahead," Mom cut me off, putting her hand on my arm. "Jeremiah is going to take me for a walk in the fields this afternoon."

"That sounds wonderful, sweetheart." Grandpa said to her before nodding his approval to me, as if to remind me of what we'd discussed on the porch about supporting Mom.

Mom and I started our walk after they'd left. She clutched tightly to my arm and rested her head on my shoulder as we waltzed along the edge of the corn field. As we walked I occasionally extended my left hand to brush against the long grass or stalks of corn. A few times we stopped while I helped Mom step over a mud puddle or rock. We both seemed to understand that there was no rush and we simply took our time meandering along the tree line and enjoying the other's company.

When we reached far corner of the property Mom insisted that we continue a little farther into the forest. "Oh, honey, come on! There's a big rock I used to climb on when I was little. It's just up ahead! I've always wanted to go back and see what it looks like now." She let go of my arm and rushed ahead, her dress billowing out behind her.

I was happy to continue my slow walking pace, watching her skip and dance in the sunlight ahead of me, a wide smile on her face. It was a pleasure to see her appear so youthful as she laughed and twirled girlishly. After a minute she disappeared beyond a cluster of trees.
When I caught up I saw my mother sitting on a huge rock shaded beneath an enormous, old oak tree. She patted the space beside her. It took me a couple of attempts to climb up. How had she done it so easily?

"I used to spend hours out here," she rested her head on my shoulder again, now that I was seated next to her. "I would just sit and think. This peaceful place always made me feel at ease, like the problems in my life could all be solved."

"It's beautiful, Mom. Thanks for taking me here."

"Jeremy... I think it's time we had a certain conversation."

Uh oh. Could our fun times in her bedroom be over? I prayed that the pastor's message hadn't given her a change of heart. "About what, Mom?"

"We're going to talk about who Richard really is."

Phew, I was in the clear. And I certainly perked up at the prospect of having my questions about my past answered. I turned to Mom and gave her my hand, letting her clasp it gently in her lap as she began to open up.

"When I ended up pregnant," Mom began, "I was pretty distraught. It was humiliating having to go to church like that, without having a man at my side. I didn't have anybody other than my parents to support me through it. I didn't see Jenna much after that, either."

"What happened to her?" I asked.

"She ended up pregnant, too, not long after I did. Figures. We kept in touch a bit but eventually got distant. I saw her on social media a couple years ago. Doesn't look like she ended up staying with the first guy but she's married now. Not sure if he's a good man or not. I miss her and wish her the best."

"Do you think you'd ever reach out to her, Mom? Maybe get back in touch?"

"I don't think so, honey. From what I can tell she's changed a lot. I don't think it would be the same anymore."

"What about the guy you were with, Mom? You know... my real father?"

She had a hard time beginning her response and looked down at the ground before speaking. "I had been going through a wild time, honey. And I wasn't always thinking about consequences, if you know what I mean."

I didn't say anything, just waited for more.

"Here's the raw truth, honey." She looked at me. "I don't know who your real father is."

I felt a lot of emotions well up in me at hearing her admission. Though I had always suspected that this was the case, it still hit me hard. Anger and frustration came first. How could she have been so irresponsible? Then compassion came quicker than expected and I thought about how much she had done for me while raising me. She'd always given me love and support and had never made me feel ashamed for anything. I gave her hand a squeeze.

"Of course, now that I was looking for a real relationship -- a man to support me and you -- all the guys who liked me disappeared. They didn't want to raise somebody else's kid." Mom looked around at the forest before continuing. "A friend of mine, a dancer, ended up introducing me to Richard. I guess she'd met him after he'd come into the club she worked at a few times and was often requesting dances from her. Apparently he was always asking her to spend more time with him, too, offering to pay for everything and take care of her. Do you understand what I mean?"

I nodded.

"By this point, his company was already a success and he had money pouring out of his ears. But he was awkward. I mean, socially. More awkward than he is now. He wanted a girlfriend but he couldn't seem to meet a woman the traditional way. So he had started trying to use money to solve his problem."

I saw that Mom was having a hard time explaining all this to me and I took a moment to gently brush her wavy hair back over her shoulder, hoping to put her at ease.

"Anyway, my friend wasn't interested in what he was proposing, but she knew that I was looking for a man who could support me. So she sent him my way. You were already born at this point and I knew that it would be important for you to have a male figure in your life. Even though I had my doubts about what kind of guy he was, I agreed to meet him."

I brushed Mom's hair back again, placing my free hand on her upper back and gently rubbing up and down her spine while she continued.

"He was a weird guy, Jeremy, especially back then. I thought that he had a few handsome qualities, but wasn't exactly swept off my feet by his manors."

Mom let go of my hand and pushed herself a little farther up on top of the big rock. Then she picked up a small twig and started twirling it in her fingers.

"He liked me though, and after the second time we met he made a surprising offer. He told me that if I'd be his companion, so to speak, he would take care of me financially. He knew about you, too. I'd told him that I had a baby."

She tossed the twig into the forest.

"We got together again and talked about it. Basically, I would be expected to be available to him when he wanted me and in exchange he would pay for the things I needed to raise you. You and I would live in his house and our deal would last until you turned 18. We even wrote all of this down in a contract. Richard wanted to set up a cohabitation agreement because he knew that the government would eventually consider us to be in a common-law relationship and he wanted to protect his assets."

"Things started to happen really fast," she went on. "You and I moved into his house almost immediately and him and I told everyone that we had eloped, even though it wasn't true. I got used to his awkwardness and it turned out that we actually had a bit of chemistry. At least, enough to make things work between us. Our relationship was obviously controversial and unorthodox. My parents wouldn't have approved, so we made sure that they believed that we were in love and married."

She picked up another twig and broke it in half.

"I needed to be ready for Richard anytime he wanted me. Sexually, I mean. That was actually the easier part of our deal. Sex has always come naturally to me." She glanced at me, blushing. Then continued. "The hard part were the corporate dinners he'd drag me to. I'd have to get dolled up and keep a smile painted on my face while he spoke and networked with other executives with me on his arm."

"As for my duties in the bedroom," she went on, "I had to be open to experiment with whatever he wanted to try. He had a lot of specific requests and a fetish for power play. He would expect me to be waiting naked on the bed when he came home from work. Then he would use me and leave the room when he'd finished, sometimes not even saying a word."

Mom's voice betrayed her emotions as she opened up and I thought back to her comment about how she liked cuddling. She must have been starving for an emotional commitment after all that time with distant Richard.

"Other times he wanted to try wilder things." She looked down and rubbed her wrists. "He used to tie me up, Jeremiah. He'd even gag me while he used my body. He seemed to really get off on the idea of owning me." She paused. "And I admit, in those moments, I got off on it, too. We never needed to use lubrication, him and I. I was always so wet while I lay there with ropes around my wrists and ankles, anticipating what he'd do with me. I used to resent myself for responding so easily to him, for being so turned on by a man who wasn't there for me in other ways. But sometimes the body and heart want different things."

She stopped talking for a minute and ruffled my hair, then rested her head against me as we looked out into the forest together, watching the leaves gently blow in the breeze and listening to the birds sing.

"He had a high sex drive, even higher than mine." She looked at me and I thought about how quickly she'd lunged on me the other night. And how wet she'd become when I'd started to touch her. "He wanted to do everything. God, he was relentless in the early years. He'd use my butt, sometimes, too. And I didn't even mind it."

I pictured Mom tied up on my folk's bed, nude and ready. In my mind she was face down, her ass raised slightly and both of her holes spread open as she became wetter while waiting for Richard to shove his veiny, nerd dick into whichever orifice he wanted. I felt disgusted with myself when my cock began to harden at the thought. And when I imagined taking Richard's place, having Mom tied up beneath me with both of her holes available, my cock stiffened even more.

"I was relieved to have found a way to support you and I, but I wasn't happy. Not at a deep level. I thought about leaving him -- of breaking our contract. I even started to make an escape plan a couple of times. But I honestly didn't know how to get a legitimate job or how I'd support you. And, back then, I was too proud to return to the farm and have to tell the truth to my parents."

I rubbed her back, saying nothing. I wanted to give her the space to speak as much as she needed to.

"Over the years things improved a little. Richard seemed to get his domination fantasies out of his system and I resolved to complete our contract."

As I processed all of this, I began to realize the ramifications. This meant that Mom had never really had an actual boyfriend -- that is, a man who loves her for real and is truly with her for who she is, not just for sex.

"Well, that's how we lived for many years. Richard always provided financially. He paid for everything. I think he enjoyed feeling like he was saving you and I, as if it gave him the sense of purpose he'd been searching for. I fulfilled my side of the deal, as well -- always providing sex when he wanted it and acting the part of a warm and nurturing woman for him. But I was never satisfied. Richard wasn't there for me in many ways and I had needs that weren't met. He was unavailable emotionally and, frankly, I've always felt lonely."

We sat in silence for almost a minute, listening to the wind blow through the trees and watching a few leaves fall to the forest floor.

"The fantasy I'd developed as a little girl had always stayed with me," she admitted. "That I'd be a farmer's wife and live on a property like the one I grew up on."

I slid my hand down her back and extended it to rest on her hip, toying with the fabric of her church dress.

"By the end of our contract, Richard wanted us to stay together -- to be in a real relationship. He had grown attached to me. But I just couldn't move forward with him. When you turned 18, I ended it, swallowing my pride and calling my mom and dad. He tried to convince me to stay, that we could be together for real, but there was just no way. Not from my point of view, at least. I need someone who's emotionally available. That's the fight you heard when I moved out."

There wasn't much talking after that. Mom and I simply sat together, enjoying the beauty of the nature that surrounded us while I processed my origin story.

I finally spoke. "Thanks for telling me, Mom."

Fifteen silent minutes later I jumped off the rock and extended my hand to help Mom down. We walked slowly together back to the house, hand in hand. We didn't let go until we arrived and saw that Grandma and Grandpa's car was back in the driveway.

I didn't try to visit Mom's bedroom that night. Instead, I spent the evening alone to gather my thoughts.

---

I was surprised by how much the story of my upbringing impacted me. I wasn't sure what to make of it, or of Mom, for that matter. Her story had profoundly humanized her in my eyes. She was a girl who's decisions had thrust her into adulthood, perhaps earlier than she would have liked. But she'd risen to the challenge and done what she'd needed to in order to raise me the best she could have. Any anger I may have felt over my lack of a real dad quickly faded into respect for the woman who had birthed me.

I continued to rise early and work hard with Grandpa throughout the week, no longer needing him to pound on my door to get me up in the mornings. Once or twice I was actually the one to put the coffee pot on in the kitchen and was in the barn seeing to the cows before him. By the end of the week he had shown me plenty more about the goings on around the property. I had learned the full routine of caring for and feeding the animals, everything about preparing the soil for each crop, and even a little about tractor maintenance.

As the days passed I realized that I wasn't unlike my Grandpa. I loved spending my days doing honest, hard labor. Heck, I may just be one of those lucky guys who finds his calling straight out of high school. I never did see myself getting more schooling in some university. I just didn't have the mind for sitting in a classroom. I turned to Grandpa one morning during coffee break and said, "You know, I really like this farm work. I could get used to it. This might just be the life for me."

"Well that makes me mighty proud to hear, son," Grandpa replied. "Mighty proud."

One day, not long after that, I took the car back to Richard's house to pick up the rest of my things, a task I'd been putting off. Though I still felt a level of gratitude for him for providing for Mom and I, my view of him had changed. It was emotional to empty out my childhood bedroom, but I was relieved to finish loading up the car and drive away, unsure if I'd ever see or speak with him again.

With each passing day, Mom and I shared more and more secretive glances at one another, especially during meals. There were a few times during dinner when I'd look her way and see her watching me. Then she'd cast her eyes downward, appearing bashful. When she'd look up at me again, smiling shyly, she'd bat her eyes a few times. I'd always feel a little flutter in my belly when she'd do that. Something undeniable was growing between us.

One of my favorite times of the day was morning break, when I'd get a chance to check Mom out as she carried a tray of coffees and treats out to the barn. She wore a different dress every day, usually in that farm girl style that Grandma specialized in sewing. Though each of them was made with a different color or pattern, they always clung tightly to her mid section. She looked more beautiful to me every day.

I didn't try visiting her bedroom all week, but not because I didn't want to. It was that something had changed after our conversation the previous Sunday afternoon and I knew what it would mean if I went to her.

---

We returned to church the next Sunday and shuffled into our seats. Mom sat next to me with Grandma and Grandpa on her left.

My grandparents and I were dressed much the same as last week, but Mom wore a lacy red dress with a yellow belt around her waist. The buttons on the front of her dress were done up all the way to her throat. She had her hair pinned up in a tight bun with a few wavy strands dangling beside her face.

As expected, the pastor continued his series on sexual purity. This time he supported his message with a passage from scripture.

"I invite you, folks, to turn with me to the 18th chapter of Leviticus," he spoke loudly, after finishing his introduction.

Many members of the congregation pulled NIV bibles from the backs of the pews in front of them and opened to the passage of the week. Additionally, the scripture in question was projected onto a screen behind the young man who had begun to pace back and forth while delivering his message.

"These are the laws given by the Father to his chosen people. He is clear, folks. These are his desires for how man ought to live. But are we so quick to forget? Are we so quick to turn our backs on what the Creator intended?"

Like the week before, I peered down the row to see how my grandparents were responding as the pastor began to read the passage out loud. Again, Grandpa sat up straight and proud while Grandma appeared less convinced, scratching her head and looking around the room from time to time with pursed lips.

"We arrive at the sixth verse," his confident voice boomed. "No one is to approach any close relative to have sexual relations. I am the Lord."

Just then I felt something bump into my hand resting on the bench between my mother and I. Looking down, I saw Mom's pinky finger nudging me. I extended my own pinky toward hers and we hooked them together.

"We live in a world saturated with pornography, folks. And depictions of incest intended to titillate and excite are becoming ever more rampant. Why, folks, have we allowed the enemy so much freedom in our society?"

Mom scooted her body an inch closer to mine and a few more of her fingers secretly intertwined with my own.

"I bring your attention to the seventh verse, my friends," he continued. "Do not dishonor your father by having sexual relations with your mother. She is your mother. Do not have relations with her." He paused for effect. "There is no room for interpretation here, folks. No gray area. The many who would engage in pairings of this type, or glorify their depictions, stand in opposition to the Father's wishes."

When I felt Mom squeeze my hand and her other hand move across to grab my forearm, something clicked in my head. My mother wanted me and I wanted her, even knowing the full implications. Yes, taking her as my woman would mean accepting a duty to care for her tender heart, but I didn't need to fear stepping up to be her man. I'd been able to handle every other new responsibility that had come my way. I was ready for this, too. In my mind, my life fell into place. Mom would be my woman. My place would be on the farm. I knew exactly where and to whom I belonged.

The pastor continued making his way through the chapter. It seemed that God had a pretty serious problem with incest. But I sure didn't. Heck, I couldn't wait to try it, myself!

Mom and I listened together to the rest of the controversial service, occasionally squeezing the other's hand when a particularly harsh verse was read aloud. At the end of the chapter, when God calls for those who break these rules to be cut off from their people, Mom and I looked at each other. She bit her lip.

After arriving back at the farm, Grandma told us that we'd, once again, been invited to a neighbor's house for soup.

"Thanks, Grandma, but I'm actually going to take Mom for another walk in the fields this afternoon." I looked at my mother.

She smiled. "That would be lovely, honey."

---

Like the previous Sunday, we began our walk as my grandparents left in the car. Saying that she had something nice in mind, Mom had put a small bag together while Grandma and Grandpa prepared to head out. I carried it over my right shoulder while Mom took my left arm. She rested her head against me as we meandered around the corn and along the tree line.

From time to time Mom would play with my hair, twirling her fingers in my shaggy locks and telling me how happy she was to have me with her. Other than that, we spoke very little.

When we arrived at the far corner of the property, Mom snatched the bag from me and, like the week before, scurried off into the forest ahead of me toward our secret spot. When I rounded a clump of trees I saw her laying out a picnic blanket on in the leaves beneath the large rock.

I sat next to her and she took out a thermos, filling up two mugs with tea. Then she kicked her shoes off and lay down, resting her head on my lap and smoothing out her ruffled dress.

"Where have you been, honey?" She asked me as the breeze blew a few leaves across our blanket.

"I'm here, Mom." My fingers trailed across her torso, over her bust and to her throat, then back down to her belly. When they returned I let them dance across her breasts before stopping to play with her top button. I undid it along with the one beneath it. Then let my fingers wander over her chest again.

"Why haven't you come to see me again?" She reached up to slide her fingers into my hair.
I undid another button, spreading my mother's dress apart and bringing her upper chest into view. "I wanted to do the right thing for you."

Mom licked her lips, looking up at me. "You're a good man, Jeremiah. But you don't need to make my decisions for me. Let me worry about what's best for me. Now come here." She pulled me downward and our mouths met.

As we kissed I continued working on her dress, undoing buttons until I could free her breasts. My hand slid under the lacy fabric to cup her smooth, bare tits.

Soon Mom sat up on her knees, turning to me and spilling the forgotten tea onto the forest floor. She pulled her dress apart, letting her boobs pour out freely, then grabbed my face and kissed me again.

My hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her to me while we mouthed each other. Both of us were hungry for what was coming, and there was no doubt where we were going. I grabbed her ass, squeezing it and grinding against her before beginning to bunch up her dress, trying to get beneath it.

Mom pulled my shirt over my head then reached down to undo my belt and open my pants, pulling them apart to free my hard prick. She fished it out of my underwear and began to slide her soft hands up and down my length while looking at me. She bit her lip again, the same way she had back in church.

When I got her dress up to her hips she spun around, still standing on her knees and leaning back against me. She tilted her head toward my ear, whispering, "I want to break the rules, farmer boy." Then she leaned forward, laying her upper body and face on the picnic blanket and keeping her rump high in the air.

I pushed her Sunday dress up onto her low back, eager to get my hands on what lay beneath. My eyes opened wide when I saw her bare cheeks. Mom wasn't wearing panties! Spreading her, I looked at her muff, a glistening, lightly haired, pink slit and a tight, puckering hole just above it.

I dug my cock between her legs, pressing through her wet lips until I found her hole.

"Do it, Jeremy." Mom panted. "Make me break the rules!"

I pushed, feeling her hot flesh spreading open and squeezing me tightly as I slid all the way into her vagina, stretching and filling her completely.

Pulling back, I heard Mom moan as I watched her lips grip my wet shaft while it slid out of her and then back in. I repeated my slow in and out motions before gaining speed and beginning to fuck her properly. Slap, slap, slap. My hips smacked against her beautiful white buns.

I remember being surprised by the sound of Mom's grunts. They began so soft and feminine, almost like whimpers. But as we went on and she began to push back to meet my thrusts, they became deeper and more guttural. I hadn't known she was capable of noises like that. This was primal. We both felt it.

Incredibly, I was able to bang Mom for a full four minutes before spraying more than a week's worth of sperm into her. Then I fell sideways onto the blanket, sliding out of her. She lay down next to me, panting.

I didn't keep track of time as we rested together, my arm wrapped around her. I couldn't believe I'd really done it -- fucked Mom bareback and creampied her. Wow!

When my dick began to harden again I rolled onto my side and made to get between her legs but she put her hands on my chest and held me away, grinning mischievously. Standing, she peeled her dress over her head, then walked nude towards the trees.

She smiled playfully over her shoulder and said, "if you want me, catch me." And she was off, scampering into the woods.

Wasting no time, I bounded to my feet, kicking my jeans off my ankles and beginning my pursuit. I ran fast but Mom kept well ahead of me. I would have lost her if it wasn't for her girlish laughter continuing to guide me in the right direction.

The chase went on with Mom always just at the edge of my sight, continuing to elude me and playfully teasing and provoking me. I would occasionally catch sight of those gorgeous globes topping each long, white leg and my pace would quicken. I had to get my hands on her!

With a frantic dash I neared her at the edge of a small clearing. She spun and walked backward away from me, her tits shining proudly in the afternoon sun and casting pointed shadows on her ribs. She was biting her lip naughtily as if her inner teen had been unleashed. Youth and joy radiated from her in that moment.

I approached her, my member pointing straight at her belly button, and took her hands in mine. Both of us breathed heavily as I lightly spun her in the grass.

Giggling, she pushed me down onto my back and straddled me. We kissed and tickled each other while rolling on the soft moss. When my prick began to poke at her slit she froze and whispered, "it's yours... if you chase it!" And again she was up and running, calling back to me, "you must chase it, my sweet boy!"

And I did chase it. Twitterpated, I ran through the forest, batting away branches and leaping over fallen logs in pursuit of my gorgeous mother. My compass needle always pointed at my target.

I didn't let her escape and soon was in close proximity, only meters behind her. The sight of her beautiful rump drove me forward. I needed to grab it. I needed to get inside her again! After a final sprint, I caught her around the waist and brought our chase to a halt.

"Oh, you naughty boy!" She leaned back against me, resting.

I spun her to face me and lifted her by the hips to set her atop a large, fallen tree.

Mom spread her legs apart and I stepped between them, looking down at her open lips, glistening and pink.

"Have your prize, you little rascal," she breathed.

Unable to wait even a moment longer, I bent my prick forward and pushed my thick head into her. She moaned beautifully as I slid home and I gasped when I reached bottom. Her pussy felt hotter than ever! I stayed there, motionless, for a long moment, letting Mom and I both experience the reality of what we'd become. Face to face, we began our second romp, now officially lovers. If our first time had said, "we dare to cross this line together," then our second said, "this is the new us."

Mom and I weren't fucking -- nor were we making love. We were rutting. Nude and alone, surrounded by pristine nature which only served to heighten our animal instincts, our bodies did what came naturally.

I slid my hands up my mother's back and hooked a hand behind each of her shoulders to support her while she leaned backward. I had loved the view of her ass when I'd done her from behind, but watching her tits bounce and her mouth hang open every time I thrust into her was even better. Eventually Mom closed her eyes and let her head fall backward with a loud wail.

She hooked her ankles behind my ass and squeezed me deep against her. "Yes! Like that, Jeremy," she panted. "Deeper! Ohh, yess, fuck meeee, honey!"

I had already lasted much longer than the first time and was close to cumming, but I managed to hold back long enough to bring Mom to an intense climax before I exploded into her. We hugged tightly to each other as we orgasmed in unison, my deeply embedded rod throbbing and filling her.

When it was over I lifted her back to her feet and together we retraced our steps back to our picnic and our clothing.

"Take me home, farmer boy," she told me, clutching my arm.

When we arrived at the house, Grandma and Grandpa were already back. My grandfather took one look at the smile on his daughter's face and clasped his hand on my shoulder. "Good lad," he said. "It's nice to see you taking care of your mother. Keep doing what you're doing."

"I will, Grandpa," I said. "There's no doubt about that."

---

"What's wrong with you, son?" Grandpa raised an eyebrow at me the following Thursday after catching me yawning for a third time that morning. "You need to go back to bed?"

I'd been like this all week, yawning all day and nearly passing out as I worked. I'd been getting very little sleep over the past few nights.

"I'll be fine after I have another coffee, Grandpa." I got back to mucking the cow stall, raking out the soiled top layer of sand from her bedding area so that she'd have a clean place to sleep.

"You must have pure coffee running through your veins by now, boy. How's one more cup going to help you?" Grandpa had been teasing me after watching me chug several mugs each morning.

Ignoring him, I let my mind wander as I got back to my monotonous task.

It had started on Sunday. I'd eaten dinner with my grandparents then waited a couple hours before heading downstairs to see Mom. She'd been reading a book by lamplight when I'd quietly opened her door and closed it behind me.

I'd taken off my pajamas and climbed into bed beside her wearing only my boxer shorts. When she'd begun to put her book away I'd stopped her. "Keep reading, Mom," I'd said. Then I'd undone a couple buttons of her pajamas and started to pull her top apart. Over the next ten minutes I'd taken my time popping more buttons open and getting her lapels further and further apart until her sweet, meaty mounds had been freed. Then I'd run my fingertips in little circles across her soft, red nubs until they'd each hardened into firm points.

When Mom's breathing had begun to seriously deepen I brought my mouth down to her closest nipple and sucked it hard. Mom had moaned and tossed her book to the side. Becoming frantic, she'd swung her leg over me as I'd pushed her pajama bottoms down. She'd reached behind her and fished my pole out of my underwear before pointing it up toward her wet tunnel and impaling herself.

As she'd ridden me I'd slid my hands along her firm tummy and up to grip each of her tits, pinching her nipples between the thumb and finger of each hand. Mom had leaned forward to rest her face against my own as she'd cum, still working her hips madly through her orgasm. I'd allowed myself to release a moment later, shooting my semen up into her for the third time that day while she'd rhythmically clenched herself around my base.

As I'd held her against me and watched her drift off it had been obvious. There was absolutely nothing that this world could offer me that was better than my mom's pussy.

I kept on planning to stay upstairs and sleep properly, but every time I heard Grandma and Grandpa close their bedroom door I found myself quietly tip-toeing back through the kitchen toward those tempting basement stairs. Knowing that my mother's willing cunt was close by and available was just too hard to resist. I'd been back downstairs in that alluring, little hide-a-way every since then. Needless to say, I wasn't getting much rest.

Mom always answered my late night knocks the same way, rushing me inside before closing the door and whispering that she wasn't allowed to have boys in her bedroom. "I would be in so much trouble if my parents caught me with you down here," she'd say as she took me by the hand and led me to her bed. After she sat me down and climbed into my lap we'd begin an unrushed, steamy make out -- our usual start to the night.

Of course, there was no real risk of us getting caught. My grandparents were fast asleep. I guess the little game of pretend was just part of the thrill for Mom. I admit, doing a little role play was fun for me, as well. And I certainly wasn't complaining about how riled up it got her.

She'd often put on one of her old outfits for me while she waited for my arrival. I especially liked when she'd wear a miniskirt with some kind of long socks or torn nylons. I'd always leave those on her as I undressed her and laid her down on her back. I loved the way her stockinged legs looked when she'd wrap them around my back, pulling me deeper into her.

Always having been an ass man, I was surprised to find how much it turned me on to do Mom face to face. There was something about watching the expressions she'd make while I pushed into her that really did it for me. I think it was that looking into each other's eyes meant that there was no hiding from the reality of who we were and what we were doing -- a mother and her son, fucking, and willingly committing incest together. God, was there anything hotter? Mom would become wild, nearly animalistic, in those moments.

When our climaxes arrived simultaneously we'd always press our foreheads together, staring into the other while riding out the waves of our pleasure. The intense intimacy was incredible and I knew that for however long we were together it would always be our favorite act.

I managed to stay awake for the rest of the workday as the slow afternoon dragged by. But I didn't go downstairs that night. Instead, I let myself pass out in my own bed, finally sleeping properly. However, Friday and Saturday night were both spent inside of Mom. And after Sunday morning's church service, she and I continued our tradition of packing a small picnic and returning to our secret spot to enjoy an afternoon in nature.

---

On Monday after lunch, Grandma invited me to sit with her in the living room while Grandpa returned to the barn. I looked out the window after him, feeling guilty for sitting down on the job while he was working.

"Don't worry, he'll be fine without you for a few minutes. Now go and sit," Grandma said from the kitchen.

I took a seat on the couch.

A moment later, Grandma came and set a small plate of cookies down on the coffee table with two cups of tea. "Try one," she said sweetly. "I just baked them this morning."

I began eating. They were delicious.

"You know," she began, "I've never been a great sleeper." She sat down next to me. "All my life I've had the misfortune of waking up in the night. Even out here on the farm, with all this peace and quiet around us, I end up tossing and turning, thinking about all that's happened... And all that could have been. I've been this way even when your mother was young and still lived downstairs."

I took another bite of cookie.

"Sometimes I get up and step out onto the porch for some fresh air. I like it out there in the middle of the night. You can see so many stars."

I sipped my tea, wondering what Grandma was getting at.

"But often what finally ends up helping me is to sit right here in the living room and work on my knitting. I've been in that habit, knitting in the middle of the night, for years. Your father fends for himself in the mornings and lets me sleep in. That's how it's always been." She gestured to the ball of yarn with two needles sticking out of it sitting in a whicker basket beside the couch.

"Oh, yeah? That must be how you get so many sweaters and scarves finished, Grandma."

She raised her hand to gently silence me before continuing. "You know, my boy, there's an air duct over in the corner that leads right down to your mother's room."

Grandma was looking right at me now, expressionless. I stopped chewing, trying to maintain a poker face.

Finally she spoke again. "Back in the 50s, a young lady in a strict, protestant community didn't exactly have many options. I'm not saying I don't love your grandpa and I'm not saying that I wasn't fortunate to end up with a good, honest man. But that doesn't mean that I've never wondered if I had a purpose beyond motherhood and homemaking. In fact, I had a copy The Second Sex that I used to read when Grandpa wasn't around."

Should I respond? I was honestly speechless. "Grandma... I--"

"Shhhh... Just drink your tea, dear. And listen." She flashed me a stern look and my mouth snapped shut.

"There was another girl in my church group." She smiled to herself as she gazed out the window. "I'll never forget the flutter I felt in my chest when Gretchen would look at me from across those old, wooden pews." Then came the look of sadness. Downcast, she continued, "but the pain that followed was always worse, as we knew that nothing could come of it. Before we knew it, we'd both been scooped up and married off to young men, full of bravado and ready to please their new wives." Grandma chuckled a bit. "The irony, of course, is that the only thing that could have pleased me was to be free -- free to follow my heart and free to experiment and live as a liberated girl. But us gals didn't get to do that. Not back then, at least."

I blinked, frozen in place by this surreal moment. Why was Grandma telling me all this? I feared I already knew the answer.

"As sharp as he was, your grandfather never realized what was going on in his own house -- in his own basement." She flashed me another stern, knowing look. "And, fortunately, he doesn't know what's happening now."

I gulped.

"This world isn't fair, you know? Men can explore and live how they please and women are expected to follow the rules and do as they're told." She stopped to take a long sip her tea, maintaining her classic, feminine poise as she delicately set the fragile cup back in its saucer. "I've always liked this blend of loose leaf. Can you taste the hint of mint?"

I nodded.

"I understood your mother. I knew exactly how she felt and why she needed to do the things she was doing. And I never had a problem with how she dressed or how often Jenna spent the night." Seeing my eyes widen, she grinned. "So you do know about her. I wondered if she'd told you."

She went on. "I knew about the boys, as well. But I didn't tell her father about any of it because I was happy that she was living the lifestyle I hadn't been allowed to experience. She faced the consequences, of course. Being a young mother wasn't easy for her. But now we have you in our family. And you're the reason she's been so happy these past few weeks, aren't you?"

I hesitated. Then nodded.

"Don't worry, I'm not mad. Sometimes I wonder if all these rules we live by are really necessary. You know, us older folks had all the same questions your generation has. Where does all this come from? Does the Lord really exist and what comes after death? What makes a good life? Should you worry about what society thinks or live for yourself?" She paused before going on. "Not that anyone ever asks me, but I'd say that whether or not God is really up there watching, we should take love where we find it and we should never feel ashamed of indulging in the pleasure that comes along with it -- no matter who gives it to us."

Again, I felt that I was supposed to speak. "Grandma, I had no idea."

"I can't exactly say that you have my blessing, but I'm not going to stand in your way. The only thing I ask is that you keep the following in mind. I don't want my daughter to get hurt. She's been through enough and she's more tender than you men might realize. But thank you... for making her happier than I've ever seen her. Now it's time for you to get back to the barn. Grandpa will be wondering where you are."

---

Things continued in much the same way for the next month.

By day I would work with Grandpa. He introduced me to a few new tasks each week and I started to get a real, big picture sense of how the entire farm project operated. I found myself quite capable of taking care of the place, seemingly having the instinct to know what needed to be done next, even without Grandpa needing to tell me. On the days when he'd lay down for a nap after lunch, I was always comfortable working alone for the afternoon without his instruction, confident that I knew which jobs were the most urgent.

By night I'd sneak downstairs to visit my mom. After the sex I'd always spend the night with her. I found myself really enjoying the smile on her face as she snuggled against me, pulling my hand against her chest and pressing her butt backward against my crotch. I usually had my hand wrapped around one of her tits while we slept. Sometimes I'd wake up a little extra early and have time to slip my morning wood into her before sneaking back upstairs. Those mornings were my favorite.
I was on my way back upstairs around 4:30 AM one day when I rounded the corner to see Grandma standing in the kitchen. I froze. She'd obviously gotten up early, probably unable to sleep, and had decided to put some coffee on.

She raised her eyebrows at me. "Didn't quite make it back to your bedroom in time, huh, young man?"

I looked downward, smiling sheepishly.

"Well you might as well take a seat," she said, smirking and pouring me a cup of coffee. "I'll make you an omelette." She went to the fridge to grab a few ingredients. "And we'll tell Grandpa that I woke you up this morning."

That was the day I realized that I was living the dream. Between my mom, grandma, and grandpa, I had the best family in the world. How could things get any better?

---

Two days later, my grandfather and I spent the morning bailing hay -- a classic farm yard chore.

I had noticed that he was moving a little slower than usual and had stopped a few times to catch his breath. "Let's take a break, Grandpa," I suggested, worried that he was pushing himself too hard.

"Not yet, son. Too much work to do." I could hear in his tone that there would be no arguing. He grabbed another armful of hay.

I kept an eye on him for the rest of the morning, wishing he wasn't so stubborn.

After lunch, I told him I could work alone for a couple hours if he wanted to lay down for a nap.

"Not a chance, Jer. I feel fine."

That afternoon we started loading the bails onto the trailer and hauling them across the field to be stacked and stored. There was a lot of hay to move and it would take many trips before we were done.

After returning from the third trip, Grandpa climbed out of the tractor while I remained in the driver's seat. I was going to back the trailer up nice and close to the barn so it would be easier to load it up. When I saw Grandpa in my side mirror standing near the barn and directing me with hand movements I threw it in reverse. Strangely, after I turned to check over my other shoulder I didn't see Grandpa in the mirror anymore. I leaned out the window and looked back to see that Grandpa was laying on the ground. It was strange, as he was never one to sit down on the job, especially after declining to take breaks that day. Then I realized that he was in an odd position, with one arm folded underneath him. He had collapsed!

I shut the tractor down and jumped to the ground, sprinting toward him at full speed. "Grandpa! Grandpa!" I yelled over and over as I got closer. He didn't move.

I reached him and rolled him onto his back. His eyes were closed and his arms flopped to the sides. He wasn't breathing. I launched into action, checking for but not finding a pulse before beginning to perform CPR as I had learned it in health class back in school.

Beside me I heard the house's screen door bang shut behind Mom as she emerged and began running toward us. She must have heard me hollering.

"Call an ambulance!" I screamed with tears in my eyes as I continued to do series of compressions on Grandpa's wide chest. Mom halted and nodded, wiping away tears before running back to the house to get the phone.

Why the hell did we have to live so far from the city? It was a long time before I heard the distant scream of a siren rolling over the hills as the paramedics sped down the highway toward us. I didn't stop the CPR until they finally arrived and when they pulled me away from Grandpa's body I was soaked in sweat.

I watched, feeling helpless, as they attended to him. With tears rolling down my face I pounded my fists into the Earth. Damn you, Grandpa, don't leave us! I need you!

They put him in the ambulance, rushing him to the hospital. But it was too late. The doctors said it was sudden cardiac arrest, probably brought on by the cigars.

So just like that, we were alone. In Grandpa's absence, a brutal emptiness settled over the property.

---

Grandma, Mom, and I became a lot closer over the next few weeks. Though I was unsure what my role would now be and what would become of the property, I continued making sure that the place operated as usual. I kept the animals cared for and fed, the cows milked, and the crops watered and seen to. Grandpa had trained me well, and even though I'd only worked for a season, I was able to keep the farm in motion.

Meanwhile, Mom took care of the house, doing almost all of the cooking and cleaning, so that Grandma wouldn't feel any pressure while she mourned.

Maybe it was the force of habit, but the three of us continued sharing family dinners each night and even playing cards afterwards while we spoke about our feelings and shared memories of the great man we'd all loved.

The season began to change and I took in the harvest that Grandpa and I had planted, first speaking with a few neighbors to get advice on the best way to do it. Then winter came and the chores changed again, but I continued working and solving problems out as they came. I wasn't always sure what I was doing, but I managed to keep the place together. Sometimes it felt like during those long hours working alone in the fields or the barn, Grandpa's spirit was there with me, guiding me and telling me what to do next. I continued caring for the animals and planting the correct crops with each change in the seasons. It was tough work, especially now that I was on my own, but I was motivated knowing that Grandpa would have been proud to see the way I'd stepped up to the plate.

Before long, a year had passed.

---

Grandma and I had taken to having a short afternoon tea together a couple times a week. Sometimes Mom would join us, but often not. It had become a special bonding opportunity for my grandmother and I. Over time, we'd actually spoken more about the olden days, like we had when she'd first confronted me about my relationship with Mom.

"Grandma, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, dear. Anything."

"What ever happened to the girl you mentioned to me? You know, the one from church?"

Grandma smiled. "Gretchen?"

"Yeah, does she still live around here?"

"No, dear. After marrying she quickly had a couple of kids. We kept seeing each other in the church for a few years, but her husband ended up taking a job out west and they moved away. I never heard from her again after that."

"Do you ever wonder about her?"

Grandma eyed me. "Of course. But it was a long time ago. She's just a pleasant memory now."

"I think we should look her up, Grandma."

"Oh, I wouldn't even know how to begin to find her, Jeremy."

"I bet we could find her on the internet."

"Really? Well, that will be your job, young man. I don't know much about those computers."

I didn't know much, myself, but I knew more than her, and I went to get the laptop I used to use for school. Sitting on the couch next to my grandmother, I opened it for the first time in months.

Grandma told me everything she knew about Gretchen -- her maiden name, her husband's name, and after a few minutes of thinking, her first two kids' names. She then squirmed uncomfortably as I began scouring the web for any trace of these people.

There wasn't much online about Gretchen or her husband, but I was able to find one of her daughter's social media pages.

"We should message her," I said, smiling widely.

"Oh, I don't know. It's been such a long time," Grandma responded, reddening.

"C'mon, you never know what could happen." I winked at her.

Grandpa rolled her eyes. Then nodded her head.

To Grandma's embarrassment, I sent the woman a message explaining who I was and telling her that my grandmother wanted to say hello to her mom. I included our landline phone number in case she saw the message and wanted to call.

"There," I said. "Now we wait."

A few days later, while the three of us were enjoying a game of cards after dinner, the phone rang. I answered it.

After learning who was calling, I handed the phone to Grandma. "It's for you," I grinned.

Grandma nervously took the phone from me and went to the living room to speak with Gretchen.

"Who was that?" Mom asked when we were alone.

"I think it was an old friend reaching out to Grandma," I shrugged, dealing a new hand of cards.

---

Grandma and Gretchen spoke on the phone nearly every day after that. I often sat in the other room and listened to her laughing happily and as the two of them shared stories about how their lives had unfolded. After 40 years apart, the two ladies sure had a lot to catch up on. From the sounds of it, Gretchen had also been widowed.

One day Grandma announced that she'd bought a plane ticket and would be flying out to visit her friend for a couple of weeks. I couldn't have been happier for her.

That night after Mom and I had eaten together in the dining room we both remarked on how empty the house now felt. A strange feeling settled over us as we'd cleared off the table and done the washing up together. We were free to do whatever we wanted now. The house was ours.

Thinking back to my first night at the property, I took Mom by the hand and led her to the front porch. I sat on one of the deck chairs and guided Mom into my lap. Together we looked out over the big lawn and listened to the crickets. The clear sky was absolutely filled with stars.

Mom snuggled up against me while we gazed out into the universe, whispering our theories about distant planets and what else might be out there.

I ran my fingers up and down her sides and nuzzled my face against her neck. When I could not longer hold back, I began to gently kiss her throat, something that always got her engine started.

"Take me inside, honey," she said. "There's something I've been wanting to do."

Together we walked back inside the house. Mom brought me to the living room and sat me down on the couch. Then she lifted her dress up over her head, tossing it onto the chair beside her. "If we're going to have the house to ourselves," she breathed, "let's enjoy it, farmer boy."

She slid to her knees and opened up my jeans, pulling them down with my boxers after I lifted my hips to help her. I plopped my bare ass back down onto the family couch as Mom wrapped her fingers around my shaft. She licked her lips before planting a wet kiss on my helmet, toying the underside of my shaft with her tongue. Then she opened her mouth wide and slid it over me, working her lips half way down my shaft before pulling back off to breathe. She licked my entire length a few times, from base to head, before sucking me back in and beginning to work me properly, following her lips with her little first wrapped around my girth.

This wasn't the first time Mom had sucked me, but it was by far the hottest. It felt like we had discovered another forbidden level to our incest, doing it right in the family room! I was quickly on the verge of cumming and Mom could sense it.

She pulled her mouth off of me at the last moment. "Not yet, honey," she panted. "I want it somewhere else." She jumped into my lap, pulling her thong to the side and guiding my slippery shaft into her pussy.

She moved herself up and down my length twice before I erupted, sperming her right there on the couch.

"Take me to bed, Jeremy," she whispered while I was still embedded in her.

I kicked off my pants and stood, each hand gripping an ass cheek while I walked down the hallway to my bedroom. Inside, I laid her down and, my erection still deep inside, continued to fuck her, my spent cock finding new strength.

"Ohh, yes, Jeremy. Fuck me! Fuck your mother, farmer boy!" Mom was letting herself become wild, really enjoying the freedom to loudly express herself in the empty house. Mom dug her nails into my back as I banged her, wailing loudly as she came.

I jizzed her for a second time before finally pulling out and dragging the covers over us.

---

Mom and I loved having the place to ourselves and ended up choosing to sleep in the upstairs bedroom rather than in the basement. Each morning I'd rise to continue with the farm work while Mom stayed indoors to take care of the house. Of course, we always ate our meals together. Over the days we fell into an easy routine, beginning to live the life of a married, country couple.

I often found myself watching Mom sleep, loving the way she wore a slight smile of contentment after finally having the life she'd always wanted.

Grandma had been gone for a week and a half when she called one afternoon during lunch. "I'm staying here," she'd told us. "I'm staying with Gretchen."

"Huh?" Mom had been shocked. "Mother, what are you talking about?"

"I'm not coming back, dear. I'm happy where I am now. Happier than I've been for a long time. I'm leaving everything to the two of you -- the farm and everything else on the property. It's yours now. Be good to it."

After the call, my mother looked at me, confused. "Who is Gretchen and why would my mom stay with her?"

I smiled, brushing the hair away from my mother's face. "First, lets move our things into the master bedroom, then I'll tell you all about Gretchen, and the side of Grandma that you probably never knew existed. I don't think she was ever really a farm girl at heart."

---

A week later, after finishing an oil change on the tractor, I saw Mom walking out of our house with a tray of drinks and biscuits. She was wearing her hand-made checkered dress, the one with ties over her shoulders. It was still my favorite out of her collection.

We sat together, enjoying the sunny morning while we had our coffees and snack. It was no different from any other day, except that I simply couldn't get my eyes off of Mom. Something about that country dress was driving me wild and I knew it would be tough to get back to work that morning.

I watched her the entire time that she sauntered back to the house, looking at that dress clinging so incessantly to her hips and butt. The next thing I knew I was following her, deciding that the rest of the morning's chores could wait.

I washed my dirty hands then found Mom in the kitchen. I took her by the hand and led her down the hallway into our new bedroom, stopping her at the foot of our big bed. Wordlessly I began to undress her, taking my time to undo the shoulder ties of that checkered dress. Mom helped me open up a couple more ties down her front and around her waist. Standing behind her, I slid the dress down to her waist, letting my hands brush across her breasts. Dropping to my knees, I gently tugged it over her hips and down to the floor, tenderly lifting each foot out of it. Mom's panty-clad butt was just inches from my face and, unable to resist, I leaned forward to kiss each white cheek. Sliding my hands back up her thighs, I hooked my fingers into her underwear and pulled them to the floor. Mom stepped out of them herself. Before standing I hugged myself against her hips, pressing my face directly into her firm butt and savoring her feminine scent.

I walked Mom to the bed and laid her down on her stomach. Then, going to the side table, I brought out four soft ropes that I had put in the drawer the day before. I slipped the loops I'd made around each of her limbs and tied them to the feet at the four corners of the bed. At no point did Mom make a noise or protest as I secured her in a spread eagle position atop the bedspread.

Unrushed, I then disrobed myself, letting Mom wait patiently for me to return to her. By the time I was naked, I could smell her arousal. I climbed onto the mattress and stood between her legs, gently nudging her knees apart until I could see my target peaking out from between her cheeks.

Mom tried to pull her knees forward beneath her hips, at least, until the ropes prevented her. She lifted her butt toward me as far as she could, causing her muff to spread open farther. Her wet, pink lips poked out, beckoning me into them. But my eyes were also drawn to her small, dark crinkle winking at me from above her slit. My rock hard dick throbbed as I fisted its base, pointing it downward toward Mom's body as I prepared to penetrate her.

Which hole would I take? The choice was mine to make. And it would continue to be mine for many long years.