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It wasnt long before we heard the mower running as he went to work outside. Meanwhile I went to work inside getting in one last good fucking before Glen had to hit the road to make an early Monday delivery. Here is where I got my surprise for the weekend. Glen got up and showered leaving me in the bed to catch my breath and relax a bit from the several orgasm I had just had. When he walked back into the bedroom, he said to me" when Trent comes back in to get cleaned up why dont you join him in the shower and give him a real taste of what phat white pussy is all about". I was shocked at his easy attitude with which he was "giving me to his son". I looked at him and said "are you serious?". He just smiled at me and said "why not? I know you are addicted to black cocks and you dont have to go home til tomorrow". With a bit of eager anticipation I agreed and gave Glen a kiss and told him not to worry I'd take care of his son. About 30 minutes after Glen pulled out in his truck I heard. "You're sweet. I don't imagine many other mothers have as loving a son as I do. Now spoon up to me and cuddle me as we go to sleep."Before she could move away I reached up and grabbed her head in my hands and pulled her back down and kissed her again, this time thrusting my tongue out a little and running it across her closed lips."I do love you Mom and I think we're going to have a wonderful holiday." I released her and she turned onto her side and I moved in a bit closer, being careful to keep my groin back a bit. I lifted my arm over Mom's side and rested my hand on her tee-shirt covered tummy and, with my face pressed against the back of her neck, I muttered "Good-night" before giving her neck a quick peck and then relaxing to drop off to sleep.I woke in complete darkness with everything still and the only sound to be heard was the continuing fall of rain. I was disorientated but instinctively I didn't move or give any indication that I was awake and I soon remembered that I was.
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I would never have spoken about my few, brief, experimental homosexual encounters, with my own mother. To Joan, it was easy, because she saw these episodes as a natural search for identity. She never criticised my continuing nudity around the house, when not posing, and when my tick wounds had healed. Nor did she encourage it. She accepted that I felt comfortable that way, and that I had no further sexual motive. She admired me for loving my body, and its appearance, and understood that I would never force my nudity on people who might be offended. She continued to remind me that I was "lovely to look at", and that there was no shame in that.She never put her own body on display. I don't think I ever daydreamed about it. My fondness for Joan was as a mentor, a guardian, a friend and a teacher. I loved her lifestyle - eccentric as it was. She was happy in her own little world, independent, but still able to love her husband, enjoy some close female friends, and eager to educate.

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