“I will if you will.”
My eyebrows shot up.
“Why not? What’s the point of having a private backyard if you can’t enjoy it?”
“Fine by me.”
“I’ll grab the sunscreen and meet you outside,” she said.
I went out to the patio through the living room door. She emerged from the master bedroom door about a minute later. She brandished a tube of Bain de Soleil.
“You want me to do you?” She was talking about the sunscreen, but I didn’t miss the double entendre.
“Um… sure.” I pulled off my T-shirt and turned my back to her. She spread the cream over my shoulders first. Then she worked down my back.
“This makes me think of when you were a boy,” she said. “You always burned so easily.”
“I still do. It’s annoying. Why couldn’t I get your complexion instead of Dad’s?”
“Well, you inherited your Dad’s good looks too, so you can’t really complain. Turn around, I’ll do your front.”
I obeyed out of habit.
“You’re a lot bigger than you used to be,” she said as she covered my arms and chest. “More muscular too.”
“See? All that healthy food Christy makes me eat.”
“She doesn’t really ‘make’ you, does she?”
“No, but it’s easier to eat whatever she does. I mean, I’m not going to give up Coke or steak any time soon, but the rest is actually good for me. I tease her about eating ‘bunny food,’ but I don’t mind.”
“I still think you’re too thin.”
“And I think I don’t ever want to be pudgy again.”
“You weren’t pudgy. Besides, it was just baby fat.”
“On a fifteen-year old? Mom, that’s hardly a baby.”
“I thought you were cute.”
“And now?”
“Very handsome,” she said as she finished my stomach. Then she glanced at my sweatpants. “You going to take those off too?”
My eyebrows rose again. “Excuse me?”
“I’m kidding,” she said, although we both knew she wasn’t. All of a sudden she handed me the tube of sunscreen. “Here,” she said as she pulled off her own shirt, “you can do me.”
Her breasts sprang into view. I’d seen them hundreds of times, maybe thousands, but I never grew tired of looking at bare breasts, even if they were my mother’s. They’d sagged a little over the years, but they were still round and full, with medium-sized areolae and thick nipples. She paused for a moment, as if she wanted me to look, before she turned her back to me.
Her skin was pale from the winter, with a light dusting of freckles across her shoulders and upper chest. She swept her hair aside so I could cover her neck and shoulders. She tanned much easier than I did, so I wondered why she was bothering.
Then I realized that she wanted me to touch her. But we had rules about that. We were swingers, so we’d seen each other have sex, but that didn’t extend to sex with each other. Sure, we’d fooled around before, but that had been years earlier.
I coated her back with sunscreen and then worked toward her waist. Then I covered her shoulders and arms. I deliberately came close to her breasts several times, although never enough to raise an eyebrow. Still, we were both aware that I was teasing her. Then I decided to continue the innuendo where she’d left off.
“Turn around. I’ll do your front.”
“Ha! No, that’s all right. I can do it. The rules, you know.”
“Rules were made to be broken,” I shot back.
“Mmm, not yet.” She accepted the tube of sunscreen, squirted a line of orangish cream into her palm, and casually coated her breasts. Then, just as casually, she asked, “How would you feel about going all the way?”
My eyes didn’t quite pop out of their sockets, but not for lack of trying.
“You know,” she added with a grin, “nude gardening.”
“Oh! I thought—”
“Thought what?”
“Don’t act innocent,” I said.
“Who, me?”
I rolled my eyes. “Nude gardening, huh?”
“Sure. What did you think I meant?”
“You know,” I said darkly.
“What if I did mean the other?”
I didn’t think she was serious, but I played along anyway. “What about the rules?”
“Rules’re made to be broken.”
“Now you’re just messing with me.”
She paused for a moment but then laughed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist.”
“Try harder.”
“I’m serious about the nude gardening, though. We’ll be much cooler.”
“Fine by me,” I said without thinking. “Um… although…”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Aw, what the heck.” I untied the drawstring on my sweatpants. I shucked them and my boxers in the same motion. I sat on the edge of the deck before Mom could say anything. Then I avoided her stare by concentrating on the sweatpants’ elastic cuff around my ankle.
“That’s a new look,” she said when she recovered.
“Um, yeah.” I tugged one leg free. “Christy likes me to shave.”
“Completely?” Mom said, although it was obvious.
“Well, it’s only fair. I like her to shave. So…” I pulled off the other leg and tossed the sweatpants onto a nearby chair. Then I stood in all my glory, hairless from the neck down. (I still had hair on my arms and legs, and a little patch around my navel, but that was it. My pubic hair was day-old stubble, no more.)
“You look even bigger without hair,” Mom said before she realized it.
I chuckled and decided not to tell her that I was semi-hard from all the innuendo and sexual tension.
“Sorry,” she said at last. “I shouldn’t stare. Especially at my son.”
“Eh, it’s okay. He kinda likes it.”
“He?”
“Mr. Big.”
She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Is that what Christy calls it?”
“Him. He’s a him.”
“Oh, he is, is he? Well, should I shake his hand or something?”
“Probably not,” I deadpanned. “The rules.”
“Oh, right.” Her eyes glinted with laughter. “Those. Obnoxious things, rules. Always getting in the way when you don’t want them to.”
My eyebrows rose with mild disbelief.
She grinned. “Sorry. I’m still teasing you.”
“Yeah. But turnabout’s fair play, you know.”
“Oh, I know. So I’ll stop. For now.” She shot me a grin. “I have a bit of a confession. You aren’t the only one doing a bit of, ahem, creative gardening down below.”
“Oh?”
“You’ll see.” She kicked off her shoes and unbuttoned her jeans. She shimmied and slid them over her hips.
Her jiggling breasts caught my eye, so I didn’t notice her pubic hair at first.
“Your dad asked me to shave,” she said, which drew my attention like a magnet. “Not completely, like Susan does, but ‘just the undercarriage.’”
I couldn’t help but laugh at his choice of words. Then I took a good look at what she was talking about. Her bush was light brown and neatly groomed, as usual, but the triangle narrowed to a point above her slit. Her labia were bare, plump and pinkish-brown.
“Looks nice,” I said, the first thing that came to mind. “Not that… you know. I mean… the rules, right?”
“Right,” she agreed dryly. “The rules.”
“Well, I’d better put sunscreen on my legs,” I said as a distraction.
All of a sudden she laughed.
“What?”
“Better do your penis too. You don’t want it— Excuse me, him sunburned, especially without hair to protect him.” She couldn’t help but grin.
“Yeah, right.”
So I covered my legs and butt with cream. Then I self-consciously coated my dick as well. He reacted predictably.
“I wonder if I should do my lady parts?” Mom wondered. “You know,” she added, “just in case.”
“Better safe than sorry.” I handed over the tube and pretended not to watch as she delicately spread sunscreen on her labia and between her legs. “Might as well do the rest,” she said. “I may tan easier than you do, but I can still burn, especially the first couple of times until I start turning brown.”