Natalie discovered the sensual appeal of maintaining a high degree of flexibility. She could arch, twist, and extend her body in ways that captivated her partners. The men in her life were often mesmerized by the array of positions Natalie’s lithe body could achieve.
Of all Natalie’s positions, one inspired admiration above the others: legs spread wide, pussy on display.
No other position left her feeling quite the same exquisite combination of vulnerability and strength. When spread, Natalie could never forget that she exposed and revealed her most private parts. But when spread, she had power, too. She could see that power reflected in her lovers’ eyes. Around pussies, men became little boys. They could never get enough, never see enough. When confronted with one, open and on view, they all seemed to be subdued by its power. A delicious thrill took Natalie every time she parted her legs. The wider she spread them, the more power she had over her lovers. The men she knew in college, exposed to Natalie’s spread legs, fell under her spell every time.
Her late husband Mark was different. Mark loved Natalie’s pussy, but he was never cowed by it. Mark and Natalie would lie in bed, naked, Natalie on her back. Mark would push gently against her knees, until they opened, and Natalie exposed herself, and then Mark would attend to her.
He would caress her, lick her, tease and tickle her. He would push her lips back with his fingers and carry on a long, silly conversation with her pussy. Mark would tell Natalie’s pussy what a pretty pussy she was, that she was just right in every way — that she had the right amount of swell and curve, the ideal, flirty slit, the perfect little hooded button of a clit, and just the right degree of lippiness.
Natalie never could get enough of his words and his fingers and the press of his hand against her knees, pushing them open. She could never get enough of his swollen cock, pressing against her folds and entering her with the perfect mix of urgency and tenderness. Mark never failed to bring her to orgasm, nor did he mind that she often squirted into his hands and his face when she came. He drank whatever he could with glee.
The days and nights in bed with Mark led Natalie to connect the spreading of her legs with some of the happiest and most fulfilling moments and sensations she had ever known.
Mark had died two years before, of a sudden illness. Natalie was 45 now, widowed, horny, and ready to find a mate again.
It was late summer, mid-morning, and her son Ethan was downstairs, probably still sleeping in his bedroom. Ethan had just graduated from college, and he was staying at home with mom until the fall, when he would move to another city to start a job.
Natalie sat on the floor of her upstairs bedroom, back propped up against the side of the bed. She sat naked, with her legs spread straight out from her body. She looked at her reflection in a full length mirror a few feet away.
When she was a gymnast Natalie could have spread her legs perfectly straight out, so that they formed a horizontal line from toe to toe. Though still fit for her age, she was neither as lean nor as limber as she was as a teen, and now she had to settle for her legs forming a wide, shallow ‘V’ instead of a straight line.
She wasn’t a teen, anymore, but she looked good, she thought. She ate smartly and exercised. Her body held up well against the onset of middle age.
She reached between her legs and pulled her labia back.
Natalie liked the contrast between the damp, rich pinkness inside her pussy and the pale, freckled skin of her body. Mark had liked it, too, and he had told her, many times, how much he had liked it. She thought about his words as she touched herself.
My God, I miss him, she thought.
She dipped a finger into her pussy, pushed it deep inside and curved it up to feel the spongy G-spot, and then pulled it out again to press it against her clitoris. Her hand moved in quick circles. Her breathing grew faster and shallower and louder. It wouldn’t take long for her to make herself come. Her ass bounced off the carpet. She closed her eyes to concentrate on the coming orgasm.
Before she came, she heard footsteps. Her eyes opened. Looking up, she saw her son Ethan, just inside the bedroom door, staring at her, mouth open and eyes wide.
Natalie shrieked, and her legs snapped closed. Her hands flew to her breasts and to her pussy, to shield her nudity from her son.
“Sorry!” Ethan cried. He jumped off the carpet, put his hands up, and turned and ran away, out of the bedroom.
Natalie sat against the bed, quivering. She wondered why she hadn’t closed the door. She wondered what her son thought of her. She wondered how she would face him.
She jumped off the floor and closed the bedroom door. She sat on her bed for a long time, thinking.
An hour later, dressed in khaki shorts and a white short-sleeved top, she left her room and walked down the stairs to the kitchen. She wore thick, black-rimmed eyeglasses to correct her near-sightedness. Her straight, red hair, falling about her shoulders, was not quite dry from her shower.
When she turned the corner from the bottom of the stairs, she saw her son Ethan in the kitchen, munching on a leftover burrito from the previous night’s dinner, and holding a coffee mug.
Ethan looked up from his brunch. Their eyes met, and they didn’t know what to say to each other. After several awkward moments Natalie broke the silence.
“Ethan –.”
“Mom,” Ethan interrupted her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone into your room. I’m sorry about that.”
“I should have closed the door. I’m sorry . . . I’m sorry you saw that.”
“You don’t need to be sorry, mom. You don’t have anything to be sorry about.”
“Yeah,” Natalie said. “But still . . . that’s not something a son should see.” She smiled grimly. “I hope you’re not traumatized for life.”
Ethan smiled too.
“I think I’ll recover, mom. Why don’t we try to forget about it. Next time, I’ll shout and knock before I come into your bedroom.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Natalie said.
She walked to the refrigerator and pulled some fruit and leftovers out. She and Ethan spent a while eating their respective meals without speaking. Natalie broke the silence.
“It’s been hard,” she said. “Without your father. I haven’t had a man in my life for a long time. I hope you understand that.”
“Mom, you don’t have to explain,” Ethan responded. “You and dad were always open-minded about things — things having to do with sex. I always appreciated that. You don’t have to explain anything to me. You don’t have to be sorry about anything.”
“I appreciate that,” Natalie said. “I should let you know . . . I’m thinking about dating. What do you think about that?”
“It’s been two years, mom,” Ethan said. “I totally understand. I’m sure it’s been, like, really hard. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Thanks, Ethan,” she said.
“Dad would want you to be happy, mom,” Ethan said.
Natalie almost cried at that. Her son’s understanding about her needs surprised her. But Ethan had always been mature for his age.
“The truth is,” Natalie said, “I’ve gone on a couple of dates already. Through an online dating site. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”
Ethan was surprised. He had no idea his mom had started dating again.
“When . . . when did this happen?” he asked. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Natalie put her head down, avoiding Ethan’s stare, before answering him. She was embarrassed she hadn’t told him.
“I don’t know, Ethan. I wasn’t sure how it would go. I haven’t dated in a long, long time. I didn’t know what to expect and I thought I’d just spare you the details of your mom’s dating life.”
“Mom, I understand,” Ethan said. “I’m an adult. I don’t expect you to live the rest of your life like a nun. Can I ask, though — is there somebody you’re dating steadily now?”
“No,” she said. “I’ve been on a few first dates — guys I’ve met through the dating site. But no second dates. It hasn’t gone anywhere. I’ve been disappointed.”
“Why’s that?” Ethan asked.
“Well, it seems like all the guys who are interested are . . . old. I’m getting interest from guys in their late 50s and 60s. I want to date somebody younger, closer to my age, or maybe even younger than me. But it seems like guys my age are looking for women who are a lot younger. It sucks.”
“You know, mom, I’ve, like, done some online dating myself. A lot of it is how you market yourself. You may not be marketing yourself the right way to get attention from guys your age.”
Ethan downed a big gulp of coffee in the mug in his hand.
“Tell you what,” he said. “How about if you let me look at your dating site profile? I can give you some pointers from a guy’s perspective.”
“Ah,” Natalie said, and she hesitated. “That seems awkward. Letting my son look at my dating profile. I don’t know, Ethan. I’m not sure I can deal with that.”
“Mom, come on,” Ethan said. He smiled, his face reassuring. “I can help. I want to help. I’ve done my share of dating online. I know how it works.”
“Well,” Natalie responded, slowly. “I guess so. I guess I’ve got nothing to lose. But don’t laugh, O.K.? Your old mom is feeling vulnerable.”
“I won’t laugh,” Ethan said. “And you’re not so old. Let’s look at it over here.” Ethan walked to a computer and monitor sitting in a nook to the side of the kitchen. He waved his mom over. After a moment’s hesitation, she followed him.
“Go ahead,” Ethan said.
Natalie’s fingers tapped over the keyboard as she logged in to the Web site. In a minute her profile page popped up on the screen. She stood to the side to let Ethan look at it, but not without feeling nervous and embarrassed.
I can’t believe I’m letting him look at this, she thought.
But she let him look.
Once on her page, Ethan consumed it, greedily. Natalie saw his eyes scanning the way she’d described herself. She saw him poring over the photos she had uploaded. She saw the intensity of his face while he looked over her profile page. She wondered what he would think of her. She realized she didn’t want him to disapprove. She caught her breath and waited for him to finish.
At last his fingers stopped hitting the keyboard. He pulled back, and he turned to his mom. He pointed at the screen.
“Mom,” Ethan said. “It says here on your profile that you want to date guys from 45 years old to . . . 25. That’s 20 years younger than you, right? That’s only three years older than me.”
Natalie blushed. She didn’t want her son seeing that. She wished she hadn’t let him log on to her profile page.
“Yeah,” she said. “Yes. That’s right. It’s just . . . I keep myself in very good shape. I go to the gym. I want somebody . . . compatible. I don’t want to date old guys. I thought it might be fun . . . to date somebody a lot younger. I’ve never done that.” She put her head in her hands. “Is this weird? Do you think I’m a bad person?”
Ethan looked at his mom with patience and love.
“No, mom!” he said. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to date younger guys. But if you want to do that, you gotta change your profile.”
Ethan pulled up her dating site pictures.
“Mom, no offense,” Ethan said. “But your pictures suck. The ones of you are all selfies. Your main portrait picture is fuzzy. It doesn’t even look like you. And this one — it’s a bathroom selfie. You’re wearing some long dress I’ve never seen you wear. It totally hides your figure. And what’s this?”
He pointed to a photo of a flower in the garden in the backyard.
“Well,” Natalie stammered. “I like gardening. I wanted to let them know that.”
“Mom,” Ethan said. “No guy gives a shit about that. Pardon my French. Guys want to know what you look like. And if you’re interested in younger guys, they want to know if you’re hot. They don’t want to look at a bunch of plants.”
Natalie didn’t know what to say. Ethan seemed to know more about online dating profiles than she would have guessed. But as she looked over the photos of her on her page, she had to admit, they weren’t very glamorous.
“What do you think I should do?” she asked.
“You need new pictures, mom,” Ethan replied.
“O.K.,” she said. “I guess I’ll do that. I’m not much of a photographer, though. I try, but, well . . . you’ve seen the selfies I took.”
“I could help you out with that,” Ethan said.
“What do you mean?” Natalie asked.
“I mean I could take the pictures. I’m a pretty good photographer. I could take photos of you that are way better than what you’ve got on your profile page.”
Natalie paused.
“Like, what do you have in mind?” she asked.
“Let’s get a picture of you by the pool,” Ethan said. “In a swimsuit. Show yourself. You’re a good-looking woman, mom.”
It felt strange to hear those words from her son. But it felt good, too. It had been a long time since she’d shown her body, and it was still in good shape. Maybe Ethan was right.
“O.K., Mr. photographer,” Natalie said to her son. “What do we do now?”
“You go upstairs, and put a swim suit on, and I’ll get my camera. We’ll meet at the pool. How’s that?”
“O.K.,” Natalie said. “But this still seems kind of weird.”
“It’s only weird if you make it weird,” Ethan said.
Natalie left the room and walked upstairs.
Her skin tingled. What Ethan proposed seemed strange. She wasn’t comfortable. But maybe he was right — it was only weird if she made it weird.
She pulled open the second drawer of the dresser in her bedroom, where the swimsuits lay. She fished out a one-piece suit, pink with a floral pattern. She shucked off her shorts and top and pulled the suit over her body.
She looked at herself in the mirror. Not bad for an old lady, she thought. But she stopped by the bathroom before heading downstairs. She touched up her face with some foundation and she applied mascara around her eyes. Before she left she applied sunscreen all over her body. She rubbed it in well, so it wouldn’t make her skin look greasy.
Ready, I guess, she thought. She walked downstairs.
When she reached the ground floor, she looked for Ethan. She didn’t see him at first. Then she saw him, through the window. He stood near the pool in the back yard, and he was doing something to his camera.
Natalie sucked in a big breath, and she walked through the back door.
It was a strange feeling, parading in front of her son in a swimsuit, wanting him to take pictures of her. Ethan’s reaction eased her nervousness. He smiled, kindly, and beckoned her toward the pool with his hand.
“Over here, mom,” he said, gesturing toward a reclining chair near the pool. “We’ll get some pictures of you lying on this lounge chair.” Natalie walked toward the reclining lounge chair. A thick off-white cushion covered its heavy, stained teak frame.
“What do you want me to do?” Natalie asked her son.
“Go ahead and lie on the lounge chair, and we’ll go from there.”
The reclining chair stood on the pool patio, a few feet away from the kidney-shaped pool. Thick shoots of greenery sprang skyward from the ground around the patio, against the backyard fence. The bushes stood deep-green and dense, screening the backyard from the eyes of potentially peeping neighbors.
Natalie lay on the reclining chair. Her body didn’t feel entirely her own. She saw her son taking photos of her, stretched full-length in the chair in her pink swimsuit, but it almost felt like it was someone else having her photos taken.
Ethan took many photos of her, instructing her to move this way and that. But he seemed dissatisfied. Natalie sat up in the chair.
“Ethan?” she asked.
“Yes?”
“Is something wrong? You don’t seem happy.”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
Ethan did not answer immediately.
“Well –” he began.
“What is it?” Natalie asked.
“I don’t think that’s the right suit for this, mom. It’s too . . . conservative. It’s an old lady suit. In your dating profile you put that you want to date guys that are 25. That’s near my age. You’re very pretty, mom. If you want to date guys that age, mom, I think you can. But you gotta do better than that suit.”
Natalie was taken aback. It was strange to hear criticism from her son about her swimsuit choices. But, she had to admit, he had a point. He was 22. She was 45. If she wanted to attract younger men — and she did — it made sense to listen to Ethan.
“What do you recommend?” she asked.
“Let’s go upstairs,” he said.
Ethan and Natalie walked into the house, Ethan in the lead, taking stairs two at a time on the way up to her bedroom. She followed him close behind, until they both reached her dresser.
He opened the top drawer. Panties and bras. That wasn’t it.
He opened the second one, full of swimsuits. Bingo.
Natalie’s mouth clenched as her son’s hands went into the drawer, rifling through her large swimwear collection. Mark had bought many suits for her over the years, most of them skimpy. She had enjoyed showing off for him, but at 45 she wasn’t sure she could fill a bikini as successfully as she had in the past. It was a lot stranger, too, having one’s son handling her bikinis than having her husband do so. But she stood silent, watching him. He was trying to be helpful, and she had to admit there was a devilish thrill in watching his fingers sifting nimbly and lovingly over the tiny pieces of fabric that had hugged her body in its most intimate places.
“What’s this?” Ethan said suddenly.
He pulled out her smallest and sexiest bikini. It was almost impossibly tiny — two pieces of aqua lycra held together with the thinnest of strings. It was unlined. The bottom was in a Brazilian style that left most of the ass exposed. The top consisted of tiny triangles that obviously were insufficient fully to cup and cover breasts as large as Natalie’s.
Mark had bought it for her just before a vacation to Hawaii, and she had worn it only once, when they spent the day at a beach with few people. To Natalie it had seemed like Mark was unable to take his eyes off her all day. She enjoyed the visual feast she gave him even though the suit was so brief that it left her feeling nervous and embarrassed the whole day that she wore it.
“Wow, mom!” Ethan said. “You wore this? This is tiny!”
“I wore it when your dad and I went to Maui a while ago,” she said. “Just one time.”
“You must have looked amazing in this,” Ethan said. Natalie saw that he caught himself as soon as he said it, as though suddenly aware that it was an odd thing to say about one’s mother. He stopped talking, but Natalie noted that his forefinger and thumb were rubbing over the tiny triangle of lycra meant to stretch over and cover her pubic mound. He stared at it intently, and Natalie had the feeling that her son was thinking about the part of her body that this part of the suit had once covered, if only barely.
She felt goosebumps on her body.
“You need to wear this,” Ethan said firmly. “This will be perfect.”
“Ethan, that’s much too skimpy,” she said. “I can’t put pictures of myself on the Internet in that thing. Come on.”
Ethan held it up to the light. It wasn’t quite see-through in the bedroom light, but it almost was.
“Yeah, you can, mom,” he said. “You’re not going to show anything you shouldn’t. I’ll be careful with the angles. This color is perfect against your skin. It’s going to show you off really well.”
Ethan meant it, but Natalie wasn’t entirely convinced. The suit was awfully small.
“Besides, mom,” Ethan said. “Taking the photos doesn’t mean they’re going on the Web site. You can pick and choose whatever you want to put on. Let’s do it. You’ll look great.”
Natalie decided to give it a try. What the heck, she thought. If I don’t like the pics, I’ll choose another suit.
“O.K., I guess,” she said. “But I get to veto any pics going up if I think they’re too much. Deal?”
“Deal,” Ethan said. “I’ll go wait by the pool while you put it on.”
He closed the door behind him. Natalie stood over the tiny suit lying on the bed.
She pulled off the one-piece and quickly tied on the aqua bikini. She hadn’t worn it in years, and she had forgotten how slight it felt on her. It was like she wasn’t wearing anything at all. When she was done with both hip ties she reluctantly gazed into the full-length mirror to see her reflection.
Wow, she thought. It was small. Crazy small. The triangle tops were only a couple of inches across, and her pale, full breasts spilled out to every side of them. The bottom was just as tiny — nothing more than a thin inverted triangle that covered just what it absolutely needed to, and nothing more. If it moved even a fraction of an inch to either side, part of her labia would be exposed.
She half-turned to see the back coverage. It wasn’t a thong, but the triangle of fabric left most of her butt exposed, and its apex disappeared into the cleft at the bottom of her cheeks. She was pleased to see her butt looked firm, with no sign of imminent droop, in the tiny suit. The color of the suit was a good fit, too; the pale green-blue nicely set off her pale, pink-toned, freckled body.
Her biggest concern about the suit wasn’t its size, however, it was the thinness of the lycra — what looked like less than a millimeter of fabric obscured her private parts from view. And, to be honest, they weren’t fully obscured. The suit wasn’t see-through, but it had no lining and it was so thin that it molded closely over her nipples, which jutted out noticeably, and over her pussy, which left a subtle but noticeable vertical dimple between her legs. When she looked more closely still, she noticed a hint of darkness where her privates were, as well.
She also saw a few stray hairs peeking out from the bottom. She would have to take care of that.
She shucked off the bottom, walked to the shower in the bathroom, and pulled out her razor and some shaving cream. A well-cropped patch of auburn hair did little to obscure anything below, but it would look bad peeking out the side of the suit. She began to shave the sides, and then decided on a whim to shave it all off. It would be easier to deal with the suit that way, and it took no time to get rid of the remainder of the scrubby patch. In a few strokes she was clean shaven. Mark always liked it that way, he said, because he liked the feel of her smooth skin against his cock. Natalie had liked that feeling, too.
Shaved and ready, Natalie put the suit back on. She slathered on more sun screen, a necessity to protect her pale skin from the mid-summer sun. She thought about putting on a cover up, but she hadn’t done it before and decided against it. There was no one in the house to see her other than Ethan, and there was no point hiding her body from him when he was going to be taking photos of her in minutes anyway.
Her body lay exposed to the cool, air-conditioned atmosphere of the house, and her skin tingled as she descended the stairs. She felt like she wore nothing.
Natalie’s confidence waivered. She took a detour to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of white wine. A few sips took the edge off her nervousness, and she took the glass with her to the backyard.
When she opened the back door and walked into the sun and toward the pool, Ethan heard her and looked up from clipping a large flash to his digital camera. His jaw dropped before he composed himself. He skipped a beat before speaking.
“Mom, that looks perfect,” he said.
Natalie felt relieved to hear him say it.
“So,” she said. “Where do you want me?”
Bad word choice, she thought. She saw a faint smile twist over Ethan’s lips, and she knew he was thinking about her word choice, too.
“Over here,” he said slowly.
He ushered her over to the side of the pool, where dense green bushes lay behind, offering a suitable background for the photograph.
“Let’s start with a nice portrait shot. It’ll be nice and pretty and not too sexy, but your . . . uh . . . potential dates will see from your bare shoulders you’re in a swimsuit. You can use it as a good portrait shot.”
He instructed her where to go, adjusting her position with his words to get the light and background right. He took several photos, adjusting settings and the degree of fill flash to offset the glare beating down from above. He pulled the camera down and looked at it.
“Wow, that turned out great,” he said. “Come and see.”
She sidled up next to him and leaned in to see the photos he’d just taken pulled up on the view screen in the back of the digital camera. She was aware that her barely clad boob was pressed against his arm, but she didn’t move it away.
They were good pictures. Ethan had a keen eye, and her eyes and smile, she had to admit, looked youthful and pretty. It was a good classic portrait photo, except that the smooth, freckled skin of her shoulders lay bare instead of covered.
Natalie felt a boost of confidence. I look a lot better and younger in those photos than in the ones I took, she thought.
“O.K., now, mom,” Ethan said. “Let’s take some real bikini shots.”
Ethan talked Natalie through a series of poses standing up by the pool — arms akimbo, arms at her side, arms over her head. He asked her to stand with one leg in front of the other, then with her weight on one leg and the other bent, and then with her legs apart. The last pose made her feel more vulnerable. The farther apart her legs were, the more flesh was exposed, and the smaller the tiny bottom would be, relative to it. But as she stood that way, before her son, the familiar tingle rose, through her body. That feeling of power she got as her legs parted. She felt embarrassed that the tingle emerged in the presence of her son. But it was a welcome feeling. She hadn’t felt it in a long time, but it came rushing back. Ethan lingered over that last pose as he took more photos.
“Let’s go back to the lounge chair,” Ethan said.
Natalie walked over to it in and sat down at the end of it, her feet still on the pool deck.
“Put a foot up on the chair.”
She did as he asked, perching one foot on the chair cushion, and the other on the concrete patio, and pointing her toes on both feet. Her legs were bent and parted, and her knees were up, and, again, she was aware of the show her open legs gave Ethan.
I should be more embarrassed than I am, she thought. I shouldn’t do this.
But she did do it, following every instruction Ethan gave her. He took shot after shot as she assumed different variations of the pose on the chair. For a moment she looked down, and she liked the contrast of the seat cushion, her suit, and her pale skin. From Ethan’s attentiveness with his camera she guessed he liked it too.
She reached for her wine glass and took a sip, and then a big gulp, and then another big gulp, until the glass was empty. The cool Chardonnay entered her belly and had an immediate effect. Tension and nervousness eased. Calm took over. And something else took hold of her — a frisson of excitement, maybe even arousal.
“You look great, mom!” Ethan said. She appreciated his efforts to make her at ease, even though they were becoming less necessary. Natalie was simultaneously struck by the strangeness of what she was doing and the deliciousness of how it made her feel. It was nice to have someone appreciate her body again, even if it was her son.
“Thanks!” she said. “I’ve got an idea.”
She got up from the chair, and then sat down on the patio. The radiant heat from the concrete was hot against her mostly bare bottom for a moment, but she forced herself to take it. She stretched her legs to the side. She wondered how well she could still do the splits on the pool patio in the tiny suit.
Ethan’s eyes bulged wide as his mom’s legs stretched wider. Mom was getting into it, and she was starting to enjoy the show she was putting on. That was fine with Ethan. He kept busy with the camera controls to ensure he got the clearest, best-focused photo he could of his mom stretched wide on the patio in the miniscule bikini.
Her legs didn’t quite make it to a full horizontal position, but they came close. It seemed to Ethan like they went on forever to either side of her, ending in red-painted toe nails pointed to either side. The length of her legs accentuated the brevity of the bikini bottom, which now lay taut against the small part of her that it covered. He took several more pictures.
“Yoga poses!” she said. Ethan didn’t even know what that meant. He knew his mom did yoga, and he’d seen her in yoga outfits often, but he’d never actually watched her do it, and he’d never done it himself.
Ethan got a quick education, watching his mom put her body through a series of twists and stretches. Her barely clad body pretzeled in front him, legs and arms going this way and that. He tried to concentrate on the photography, but he found his eyes constantly glancing back at the minute top and bottom triangles, wondering if the stretching would cause something to pop out unexpectedly. He was getting warmer under the sun. A film of sweat lay over his forehead and arms. And he could see sweat through the camera lens beginning to coat his mom’s exposed skin, too. A sexy sheen soon enveloped her.
“Wow, mom, that’s fantastic,” he said. He took a few more photos and shook his head. He’d lost control of the shoot as the photographer. Mom was leading the way. As much as he enjoyed watching his mom take over and pose for him, there were specific shots he wanted to take.
“Mom, let’s get back on the lounge chair,” he said.
Natalie jumped up from the concrete in response, and she lay back in the chair. She wondered what Ethan had in mind.
“Put your hands behind your head, and one knee up,” he said.
Natalie felt giddy from the wine and the yoga stretching. Her body buzzed under the sun. She’d forgotten her earlier embarrassment and was enjoying showing it off. She followed Ethan’s instructions, but she exaggerated the pose he wanted, arching her back and thrusting her breasts out. One leg stretched down the length of the chair, bent slightly, and the other bent up and out with a toe wildly pointed away from her. She let that leg fall back and away against the wood arm rest of the lounge chair. When Ethan looked up from his camera, she caught his glance, and she knew he was looking at the way her body stretched and swelled and pushed against the thin aqua fabric. She enjoyed the feeling so much she almost forgot it was her son looking at her. She wanted to tease him. She pulled both knees up and snapped them together.
Ethan took several photos, and then he moved closer to her. Uncertainty showed in his face. Then, as though he had a faint but not yet fully formed idea how he wanted her to pose next, he reached out to her, and his fingers touched her left knee.
The touch was electric, flooding her with long-buried desires and sensations. As though beyond her control, her knees responded to the touch by parting. She pulled both knees back, until they rested against the wood arm rests as far as they could go.
“You look beautiful, mom,” Ethan said.
“Thanks,” she said, but she thought, I know you think that without telling me. I can see it in your eyes. Ethan wasn’t looking at her like a son, anymore. Her mind wrestled with the implications of that look.
“You’re so limber, mom,” Ethan said. “I had no idea.”
“You know I was a gymnast when I was young,” she said.
“Yeah, I guess I knew that. But I’d never seen you do stuff like that. That was impressive.”
“Thanks,” she said. She kept her legs parted. If she felt vulnerable before, she felt more vulnerable now, but more powerful, too.
“Can you put your legs behind your head?” Ethan asked, out of the blue.
“Um,” she said, suddenly less comfortable. “I’m not sure, but I don’t think that falls within the bounds of good Web site photos.”
“Well,” Ethan replied. “I guess it depends what kind of Web site.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, challenging him with a skeptical edge in her voice.
“I mean, there are ordinary dating sites, and then there are sites for people who just want to hook up for a night. It’s like . . . some people don’t want to do the whole dating thing. They just want . . . some quick fun. You said you were thinking about guys in their 20s, so I wonder if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“You think that’s what your mother wants?” she challenged him.
“Mom, it’s no big deal,” he said. “Like I said, you and dad taught me to be open about sex. I’m not judging. But if you want a hook-up, there are sites for that, and those sites often let you post a little bit racier photos.
“You think that’s what your mother wants?” she challenged him.
“Mom, it’s no big deal,” he said. “Like I said, you and dad taught me to be open about sex. I’m not judging. But if you want a hook-up, there are sites for that, and those sites often let you post a little bit racier photos.”
Natalie’s eyes narrowed, but a small smile played on her lips. She didn’t like the implication that she was only looking for a casual fling, but she had to admit, the idea of “quick fun” with a younger man held a strong appeal.
“I hadn’t thought about a ‘hook-up site’,” she admitted, looking away from him, slightly embarrassed. “I guess I thought I should start with the regular dating sites.”
“I can set you up, mom,” Ethan said, his voice now confident and eager. “I know the best one. And I know what kind of pictures guys on that site go for.”
“Oh, do you now?” Natalie asked, raising an eyebrow. She was testing him, but there was a genuine note of curiosity in her voice.
“Yeah,” he said, turning back to his camera. “And a pose like that”—he pointed to her legs still spread wide on the lounge chair, her knee resting against the wood—”is exactly what I’m talking about. Maybe push your hips up just a little, arch your back. Like you’re really presenting yourself.”
Natalie swallowed. His words were instructional, but the underlying tension between them was unmistakable. She followed his direction, pushing her lower back into a sensual arch. The movement was instinctive, a throwback to the playful exhibitionism she’d shared with Mark. Now, however, her partner was her son, and the stakes felt infinitely higher.
The tiny bikini bottom tautened even further across her mound, emphasizing the shaved, smooth skin beneath. She felt the warmth of the sun and the wine-induced recklessness combining into a powerful current of excitement.
Ethan, catching the angle she created, snapped several photos. The sharp click of the camera seemed loud in the quiet backyard.
“That’s fantastic, mom. Seriously. You’re killing it,” Ethan said, sounding genuinely impressed. He walked around to the front of the lounge chair, bending down slightly to get a close-up shot of her torso and open legs.
“Hold it right there,” he instructed, his eyes focused entirely on the viewfinder. He was close enough now that she could feel the heat radiating off his body.
“Ethan,” she whispered, her voice husky. The intimacy of the moment was beginning to feel overwhelming, far beyond what felt appropriate for a mother and son. She had crossed a line, and she knew it, but she couldn’t bring herself to pull back.
“One more shot,” he murmured, barely looking up. “Just like that. Now, just relax your hands a little. Yeah, perfect.”
He lowered the camera and finally met her eyes. His expression was a mixture of professional focus and something much deeper, something mirroring the desire she felt welling up inside her.
“We have plenty of material now,” Ethan said, his voice slightly uneven. He stood up abruptly, pulling back the space between them.
“I’m going to go upload these and see which ones are the best. You should go put some clothes on.” He spoke quickly, decisively, as if trying to break the spell they had cast.
Natalie nodded, breathless. She watched him hurry toward the back door, the camera clutched in his hand. She didn’t move from the lounge chair immediately. She just lay there, soaking up the last of the sun’s heat, her body still tingling from the stretch and the shared, unspoken electricity.
She felt a complex rush of feelings: guilt, triumph, and a raw, humming arousal. She had gotten the photos she needed, but the session had awakened much more than just her profile pictures.
Getting up, she took one more glance at the door Ethan had just rushed through. She picked up her empty wine glass and walked slowly back into the cool interior of the house.
Natalie walked through the house to the kitchen, the air conditioning feeling intensely cold against her damp, barely-covered skin. She placed the empty wine glass on the counter. The bikini, which had felt so liberating minutes ago, now suddenly felt exposed and inappropriate inside the domestic space of her home.
She hurried upstairs to her bedroom, shedding the tiny aqua suit as soon as she crossed the threshold. She tossed it onto the floor, the fabric barely making a sound.
Standing naked in the middle of her room, Natalie felt a strange, dizzying mixture of shame and exhilaration. She had pushed her boundaries further than she ever intended, and the result was an intense connection with her son that was impossible to ignore.
She quickly pulled on a soft cotton robe. The encounter at the pool felt like a shared, explosive secret that now lay between them, unspoken but profoundly felt.
Natalie heard the faint, rhythmic clicking of Ethan’s keyboard from the kitchen nook downstairs. She knew he was already going through the photos, deciding which images of her would be presented to strangers online, and she realized the power she had ceded to him.
Mark’s memory provided a flicker of solace. He would want you to be happy, mom, Ethan had said. But this wasn’t about Mark or happiness. This was about a raw, forbidden curiosity that she had indulged, and she knew the consequences of the afternoon would linger far longer than the summer tan lines.
A minute later, Ethan called up the stairs, “Mom? Come look! I’ve narrowed it down to five great shots for your profile!”
Natalie paused, her hand gripping the banister. She knew that walking down those stairs now meant fully accepting the new dynamic. It meant moving forward, past the innocence of just wanting a new date, and into a dangerous, thrilling territory she couldn’t yet define.
Taking a deep breath, Natalie smoothed her robe and walked to the top of the stairs.
“Coming, Ethan,” she called down, her voice steady and clear. The only sound that followed was the faint hum of the computer and the continued, eager click of the keyboard, waiting for her.
