My story begins when I was 16. My father died about five years earlier in a work accident.
Ever since, my mom had been pretty depressed, she’d never really gotten over my dad’s death. I remember several nights when I’d be lying in bed and could hear her cry herself to sleep. I loved my mom so much and hated to see her hurting. I tried to help out as much as possible with everyday stuff like cooking meals, doing the laundry, and cleaning the house. Little did I know that one night, I was going to help out my mom out in another very different and memorable way.
I should mention that my mom was not the most physically alluring woman in the world. To be frank, most men would not find her attractive. In fact, she’s plain ... she dresses in plain looking clothes, she hardly wears any make-up, she’s what you might call a “pleasantly plump” woman. But in my eyes, she is one of the most beautiful women in the world.
The reason I describe her to you is that like any young boy entering puberty, his mother is the object of many masturbation sessions. Who knows what it is that sexually attracts a young boy to his mother? I suppose it might be that innate thrill of danger in flirting with something considered forbidden or taboo. Or it could be the constant close proximity and the availability that facilitate this attraction
Anyways, one Friday I was making dinner when my mom came home from work. She looked miserable, so I asked her what was bothering her.
I guess it all started when my twenty-four year old son, a college graduate who was living with his girlfriend in San Diego, broke up with her and decided to move back home to Sedona.
Bobby (his friends call him Bob) and I have always been close. I was a little surprised when he called and told me he had broken up with his girlfriend and wanted to move back home. He did not give me any details, but he did say she just did not understand his needs and better than being unhappy and arguing, they both decided to separate. Like any mother, I was upset and felt sorry for him. At the same time I was feeling excited at having my baby home again.
His father died when he was four and it was just two of us. As an artist, I was able to support us by selling my art and teaching.
As a young boy, Bobby used to model for my art classes on weekends and during the summer. Ever since he was a little boy, he loved running around naked, so it came as no surprise when he said he wanted to model nude for my classes. As I said, he loved being naked.