Mother’s Day

“Alright!” I yelled. “Foul!”

Mom smiled at me sweetly, her breasts hanging down such that I could see about 47% of her total tits. Not the nipples, of course, they were straining her shirt.

“There’s no fouls, remember?”

“There should be. Illegal Motion in the… front…”

“You mean this?” Mom shook her breasts.

“Yeah, that. Stop it or I’ll go on strike and form a union and picket your house. ‘Unfair to workers’.”

We finished about an hour later. The garden looked very nice. We didn’t, though. Dirty, sweaty, smelly, and there was potting soil all over the walkway.

“You put away the tools?” Mom suggested. “And I’ll get the hose.”

I put away a few things in the shed. When I came back Mom had the hose going, washing down the bricks of all the dirt. I took in the rest of the tools.

“Hey,” I said when I came back. “I’m going in for a shower.”

“Not like that!” Mom snapped. She pointed down at my feet. I had shoes on, but they were filthy and dirt had gotten inside. I kicked off them off and told her to rinse my feet off.

“Okay, stand back. The water shoots out pretty hard.” Always thinking of how to be good to her kids, Mom was.

She pointed the nozzle and sprayed my feet and got the dirt off. Got the dirt off my shins and calves, too. Good not to traipse all that dirt onto the rug.

Then, Mom raised the hose and shot me in the crotch! And the chest and face! She was hosing me down! And that fucking water felt COLD!

“No!” I cried. “You did not just do that!” I stood there and took it. I even turned around so she could wash my back.

“Are you done?” I asked when she stopped.

“Almost!” and she sprayed me one more time. “Ok, done… Travis… wait… don’t… TRAVIS!”

I charged Mom and scooped her up in my arms. She’s not light as a feather, but it wasn’t a problem for an adrenaline and hormonally charged young man.

“Stop it!” she begged. “Put me down! What are you… no! Not the pool!”

I unceremoniously threw Mom into the deep end of the pool.

As she came up for air, I did a cannonball right next to her.

Jesus! I thought the hose water was cold! We don’t turn on the pool heater until Memorial Day! Fuck! We both started to swim to the shallow end, but I was wearing cargo shorts. The kind with like 17 pockets and shit. These were not High-Speed Low-Drag swimming trunks! I could barely move, and I used to be on the swim team! I unsnapped and unzipped and kicked them off underwater. I kicked hard and caught Mom, gave her a yank on the leg, and passed her.

I quickly got to the steps and started getting out. I could here Mom sputtering behind me.

“You dirty, rotten, cheating little bastard! I was winning! Oh you’re an infuriating piece of shit!”

I turned to help her out so she wouldn’t slip. As Mom rose out of the water, so did my cock. Rise, that is. Which wasn’t that big of a problem, except I was standing there in my wet skivvies.

But, you see, when Mom came out of the water, the cold water, I couldn’t contain myself. Her nipples had hardened to near diamond strength, and they made sure everyone knew it. Those fuckers stood out at least an inch through her shirt. The wet material clung to her body, leaving nothing to the imagination. Oh look, there’s even a little mole on the one side.

Please wait…

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