The First Leaf’s Fall


Autumn is such a strange and wondrous time of year. Summer’s heat waning into the changing season, while days begin to grow shorter. Some days even feeling a bit like winter, with their nip of frost in the mornings and chilling breezes at night.

It was also my first autumn when I wouldn’t be going to school. My high school days now behind me, leading into the days of being an adult, leaving me to contemplate what to do with the rest of my life.

Fortunately, I was still living at home with my mother. She’d been divorced from my father for some time now, long before I could remember him. After him, there’d been no others, either. Thus, I was without siblings or a true father figure. Of course, one could say that my uncles helped on occasion when I’d get unruly with mother and she’d need a strong hand to smack me back into behaving.

Now though, things were different between her and I. We were both adults, both people with lives ahead of us and needing to explore all that it meant to be adult. For me, that meant getting a job, finding a girlfriend and settling down into what would be the rest of my life.

Quietly I sat in the kitchen munching on my morning meal. Eyes constantly wandering around as I found myself lost in thought. Captured upon the whims of fancy and fantasy, completely unaware of a presence coming into the kitchen to join me.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was aware that someone was speaking to me. Moments later, my eyes found themselves firmly attached to the sight of breasts. Covered, but beautiful and full, filling out the thin robe of ebony silk. Smiling deeply, thinking that I was somehow dreaming, I lifted my gaze upwards to see who was attached to those beautiful mounds of womanly flesh.

“Earth to Tyler!” her voice cried out. A jovial tone dancing about every word she spoke as I suddenly realized I had been staring at my mother’s breasts. So fascinated by their shape and weight I was, I hadn’t even realized that the robe was the one she usually wore during her mornings.

“Oh! Um, morning Mom,” I quickly replied, glancing back down at my bowl of cereal as I spooned a mouthful up and into my awaiting maw.

“Where were you just now?” She asked, moving to sit down across the table from me.

“Off in my own little world. Daydreaming really. I mean, I have the whole rest of my life before me, that’s a lot to think about.”

Nodding slowly, I could tell there was something on her mind. Had she caught me staring at her breasts, and wondered if I was some sort of pervert? Hopefully she thought I was just staring off into space, and she happened to walk into that space by pure accident. I would have been lucky if it was the latter. I would have felt horrible if she believed the former.

“So, any plans today?” She seemed interested in something. Her eyes darting around my shape as though following a fly or random leaf in the wind.

Shrugging lightly, I found my attention drawn once more to her breasts. Her sitting had wound up parting the black fabric of her robe slightly, offering my hungry eyes the barest glimpse of alabaster cleavage to stare at. Something I was incredibly thankful for.

“Not going to hang out with any of your friends?”

Again I shrugged, trying to prolong this conversation, trying to keep from letting her hear the strain in my voice if I dared speak. I was aware then, that staring at my own mother’s breasts had caused a reaction. The typical, “man see tits” reaction. My boxers were tenting fiercely as I shifted about slightly within my chair, trying to keep my hips hidden by the table as much as possible.

“Well, I was going to head to the park later today and do a bit of painting. Care to join me? Or would that be too embarrassing?”

I felt something stir inside of me. A strange flurry of feelings and thoughts and awareness to the sensations of attraction. My mind racing as quickly as my heart as eyes finally lifted to once more look into her own. The idea of being with her while painting was oddly, arousing. And it made the straining hardness in my boxers all the more uncomfortable.

“I suppose I could go,” I mumbled around another mouthful of food. I was afraid. Afraid she knew that I was conflicted, that I was stuck within a terrible turmoil that ripped up my insides and made me want to be inside her. I was afraid she was just taunting me into coming with her so that she could ridicule me in public, make a big scene about her son the pervert and have me arrested where everyone could see.

Laughing softly, she got back up from the table, moving her way through the kitchen door. Pausing a moment, her head leaned back as she looked at me sitting there. “I could always let you paint me nude!” Then she was gone, bounding upstairs like an African gazelle.

I nearly choked on my food in that moment. It was like she had been inside my head the entire time, purposefully teasing me into this excited state of being. So excited I was, that as I shifted in my chair readying to cebeci escort standing up, the head of my achingly hard shaft rubbed against just the right spot in my boxers.

Before I could stop it, I moaned out loud, feeling thick streams of my young sperm spilling out against the fabric and running down my length. Within moments, it soaked through, leaving my groin a sticky mess that I desperately needed to clean up.

Fortunately, my room was right across from the guest bathroom, which meant that I could run in there, grab some clothes, then make it into the shower without my mother ever noticing the mess her baby had made.

An hour later, I was feeling better. Dried off, clean, and dressed for the outdoors, I sat in my bedroom just staring outside. My room was on the back of the house which looked over a wide and pristine lake. Trees of every shape lining either side, blocking away the view of any other houses.

I found myself getting lost in thought against when Mother knocked on my open door. I hadn’t a moment to spare before she set herself down next to me, looking out at the lake as well.

One thing we had been fortunate about, was Mother’s parents. They had invested well during various periods of economic booming. As such, they passed on their wealth to us, and we could live quite comfortable in our small, nearly estate sized home.

“So, you ready to head out to the park?” She asked quietly, her fingers coming to rest on my shoulder.

“Yeah,” I replied, turning my head enough to look at her.

Again I felt familiar stirrings, noticing what she had chosen to wear. Her top was thin enough that under a good rain, it’d turn from white to transparent, leaving her full breasts exposed to any who saw them. Her pants were equally tight, and of the same material.

From my vantage point, being that I was so close, I could nearly see the light pinkness of her nipples through her shirt. I could also see the shadowing of her cleavage through its gossamer cloth, despite being a turtle neck of sorts. Yet her shoulders and arms were completely bare, allowing me to view the flawless, soft skin I could remember feeling as a child.

Long black hair hung loose down her back and shoulders, with only the slightest hint of curl to it. Those beautiful lockes framing a still young face that gave witness to many things in her life. Full lips painted a light red, with bright, light green eyes that could suck you right into whatever she was saying.

“I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t we go out back and paint instead. I remember how much you used to enjoy that, and it’s beautiful enough now that we shouldn’t waste the day traveling to the park.”

“That sounds like a good idea Mom. And I wouldn’t mind painting with you.”

Smiling, I felt her arms wrap around my shoulders as she gave me a tender hug. Yet I was centered on the feel of her warm breasts crushing against my arm. Her nipples dragging along my skin, barely separated by cloth as thin as tissue paper.

Then she was gone, making her way to her studio downstairs to collect the various sundries she would need. I took a few more minutes, before making my way to follow. Those minutes spent adjusting my jeans to hide my once again throbbing erection.

We made quick work of packing up a few paints, her easels, palettes, and some brushes. I got stuck with carrying the heavy stuff, including a couple fresh canvases, before we made our way outside.

It was still warm outside, with only the slight crispness of air that fall brings with it. A light breeze helped keep us cool as we set back up for the day of painting, while it also caused Mother’s nipples to pucker and tighten beneath the fabric of her shirt.

While I was transfixed upon those nubbins of flesh, she seemed completely unaware of their rising to attention, nor the effect they were having on my young body.

Pouring random colors on each palette, she went to work. Her attention on a scene of the lake as daylight struck along the water causing it to reflect around thing around it.

I on the other hand, found myself painting Mom. The way she looked, so thoughtful and posed, trying to capture that natural scene before her, was stunningly beautiful. I was lost within it, within the essence of her creative self.

Hours passed, neither one of us speaking as were both in our own little worlds. Caught up in the moment, I was placing a few finishing touches on my painting of my mother when I felt her hot, moist breath against my neck. Blinking back that artistic trance, I turned to see her smiling, staring vehemently at my work.

“Maybe I should have modeled nude for you,” she whispered softly. The words sending a shiver of delight down my spine. Then a sudden grunt as she jabbed me lightly in the side.

“Keep teasing like that, and I’ll make you.” I don’t know why I said it, but I did. Those words had been burning up inside of me since she first broached the subject at breakfast. Now, I cebeci escort bayan had to let her know that I liked it. That I wanted to see her naked body.

Her brow arched slightly as her lips pulled into a playful grin. I could tell her mind was working, trying to figure out if I meant what I said, and if I would go through with it if I did. I felt myself come to a precipice. A point of decision that had to be made. A place where I couldn’t back down, as it would wound me forever. Suddenly I turned, gently tackling my own mother to the ground. Her yelped was expected, even her giggles of joy as she immediately went into roughhousing with me.

Our bodies rolling around against one another. Pressing, rubbing, grinding as we both tried to take and keep the upper hand. A constant dance round and round as we traded the top position.

Somehow I managed to wind up on top, missing my shirt as it lay somewhere nearby. Her own shirt had been lifted upwards, just below her breasts. And both of us were stained green from wrestling in the grass.

Grinning with boyish enthusiasm, I looked down at her panting breasts, watching as they lifted up and down with glowing exertion. Her face flushed, eyes glazed slightly and yet gleaming in the mid-afternoon light. She looked absolutely radiant like that.

“Alright… Tyler…” she spoke as hips feebly gyrated beneath me. “You win.” Again she writhed, still trying to get loose, to get on top again. But I had her pinned far too well.

Hands above her head, my legs between hers and spread enough to give me the leverage I need to keep my position. Her own long legs hooked lazily over my thighs, putting us in a rather compromising position.

“That means you have to pose nude for me!” I gave in a triumphant bellow.

She laughed. A true, clear sound that echoed around us and causing me to stir atop her. My shaft thick and hard, rubbing with every breath she took, against her clad body. Feeling a sudden heat there as I let my attention focus on that meeting of bodies.

“You want to see your old mom naked, huh?”

‘I want to fuck you so bad!’ Is what I wanted to say to her. I wanted to scream my affirmation so loud that it’d shake the windows and make God tremble with its raw passion. Instead, I just shrugged like the typical teen, giving a sarcastic reply. “I did win.”

Again she laughed. Only this time she was aware of our situation. Aware that I was so terribly hard, holding her down, rubbing that length against her every time she moved.

“Well, how about we have some lunch, and then I’ll let you get your dear old mother naked so you can paint her.”

I just nodded, feeling my voice catching in my throat as she stared into my eyes. A ritualistic instinct causing my hips to press down against her, grinding harder than before. Making her feel how much I wanted her, how much I needed her.

In silent response, she pressed upwards, guiding her body to rub itself teasingly along my own. And I couldn’t help but moan then. Feeling my own mother wanting me just as much as I wanted her? I could have exploded right there and then, though somehow I hadn’t.

“But, if you get to paint me nude, you have to do it naked,” she suddenly offered.

I blushed. I blushed so deep a red I felt the blood leaving my length. Yet I was still hard. Still aching with the natural want for this beautiful woman I had trapped underneath me.

Without a word, I just nodded, quickly leaning back and getting to my feet as I offered my hand to her. She accepted, giving a soft groan as I pulled her to standing.

Into the house we went, laughing as we noticed the state of our clothes. The initial rush of sexual tension fading away as we made it inside and headed for the kitchen. Neither of us bothered to go get changed, as the thought of being naked for one another still lay fresh in our minds.

Lunch itself was rather uneventful. Across the table from one another we sat, quietly glancing back and forth trying to figure this all out. We were headed somewhere taboo. A place where mothers and sons were not meant to go. At least, that was how society saw it.

Yet how could we feel this attraction for one another if there wasn’t something natural about it? How could our bodies and minds and hearts know that we wanted this, if our genetics were meant to keep this from happening?

Questions that I honestly didn’t want answered as I stared at my beautiful mother. Her breasts framed so well by that thin shirt. Nipples poking hard through it, trying to rip free as I wanted to reach across and hold both swells within my hands.

Smoothly she stood up from her chair, causing me to blink as I looked down at my nearly untouched food. The entire time she’d been eating, I was daydreaming, and she knew it as well as I. Yet she said nothing, and saved me a bit of my honor by keeping that silence.

“You know the clearing out in the forest?” She asked, voice low and laced with the sultry escort cebeci excitement of a woman about to commit something very naughty.

I simply nodded my reply, taking a tentative bite of my sandwich.

“Meet me out there in a few minutes. Bring your paints and easel with you.” I watched as she turned away, moving outside and beyond my view. I was left alone, thinking over the day so far. How this all started, how we had played out back. I was dumbstruck to say the least.

Still, I waited a few moments before following her path. My own deviation to the terrace where we had left out paintings and supplies.

I found the old, worn path that we had walked many times over the years. It led into thick bushes and tall trees which cast the entire area with a surreal feeling. Afternoon light streaming through a dense canopy and casting deep shadows every now and again.

Quietly I rounded the last bend, peering around to see my mother stretched out languidly along the large boulder that’d always been there. It was wide and flat along the top, probably from a quarry some years back.

Seeing her there on her side, head propped on her hand with legs crossed, caused me to stop completely. My breath caught in a suddenly dry throat, I could only stare at her beautiful nakedness.

Her breasts looked larger than they had been in her shirt, and far more supple than I could have imagined. Long, slender legs extended away from her widely flaring hips and narrow waist, painting her picture in my mind before I could get anything setup.

What I was most amazed by, was the lack of hair between her pressed together thighs. Completely bare and smooth, as though she never had any hair there to begin with. It made her seem so much younger than her thirty-nine years of age.

Blinking away my excitement and stunned expression, I began to setup my supplies. All the while her green eyes followed me, waiting, watching, anticipating what was to happen. It was all I could do to keep from fumbling with everything as I kept staring at her nakedness.

“Your turn, baby,” she whispered hoarsely as I finally finished getting everything ready. Her words causing me to gasp, as this time, I really was embarrassed. But we had made a deal, and a part of me was thrilled to show off my body to my own mother.

Quickly I kicked off my shoes and pulled off my socks. I was left in only jeans, as I never wore anything underneath when I wore them.

Taking in a deep breath to steady my nerves, I fumbled slowly with the fastener and zipper, before peeling my jeans down toned legs. I heard her gasp as I did, aware that she could see my shaft hanging down.

Glancing up, I watched the tip of her tongue lick hungrily along her lips, causing them to capture glints of light from above.

“Beautiful,” she whispered to herself. I noticed the pressing of thighs together as her eyes rested unabashedly upon my rigid shaft. I felt emboldened by her open staring, as though the whole world needed to see my grand nakedness.

Quietly, afraid to break the spell we were both under, I picked up my paintbrush and began working. Laying each pigment on the white canvas as I kept glancing back and forth between my mother and my painting. A work of art that I would hang in my room for all my friends to see.

I took my time, making sure that every detail was perfect. If I only ever got to see my mother naked this one time, I wanted to immortalize this moment. I wanted to keep a perfect image of her so that when I grew older, I’d have a memory of this gorgeous woman who let me put her likeness into a portrait of the truest beauty.

It was as I had begun to paint the fine lines of her womanly crevice, that I was given pause by something. A strange turning of fate that I didn’t realize would send us both crashing into a strange and wondrous abyss.

Looking up, checking the curves and lighting, I noticed a leaf of the deepest red tumbling down through the air. A thing that seemed captured in slow motion as I followed it every turning step of the way.

Then it landed. A simple thing that was both so very poignant, and natural. Yet of all the places, it landed where I had been painting, covering my mothers womanly treasures from my view.

I was both angry, and aroused by this.

Slowly, trembling inwardly, I moved around from where I had been standing, and moved towards my mother. She watched, eyes half-lidded in that seducing gaze that could have made a priest beg to sin in her bed. But I was transfixed on the leaf that seemingly aimed for that particular spot.

My hands betrayed the shivers of excitement that had me giggling inside. Fingers reaching out, sneaking beneath the edge of that still moist leaf. All of my being aware of how close I was to touching my mother. How desperately I wanted to part her thighs and bury my heated rod deep within her belly.

Gently I pulled the leaf away, looking at it. Large by many standards, and so brilliant in color. I had to look upwards, trying to see where it had come from. But all I saw was a mass of green that seemed concealing and inviting.

Letting my eyes focus again on the leaf, I decided not to toss it away. Instead, I turned to my mother, bringing that fan of nature to rest gently over her heart.

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