Shaving My Mom

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tagIncest/TabooShaving My Mom

I was a sophomore in college when the pandemic hit, and the governor locked everything down. My classes went virtual. Fortunately, I was living at home at the time, so things didn't change too much. I spent a lot more time on my computer, in my bedroom. I also spent more time with my Mom. We got to know each other better.
A lot better, as it turned out.
One day, between classes and close to noon, I walked to the kitchen to make myself a turkey sandwich. I searched the refrigerator and found the mustard jar was empty. Darn. Mom had told me earlier that morning that she was going to the grocery store, so I figured I'd let her know we needed more mustard. I walked to her bedroom. Mom's room was on the other side of the house, at the end of the hallway. The door was open, just a bit, so I pushed it open, walked through, and called to her.
"Hey, Mom –"
I stopped talking and walking. My mouth dropped open.
So did Mom's.
She was completely naked, standing in the middle of her bedroom, staring at me.
My eyes swept up and down her body. I couldn't help it.
"Tommy!" she screamed, hands frantically trying to cover herself.
"Sorry, Mom!" I yelled in reply. I turned and ran out of the room, down the hallway, back to the kitchen.
I had just seen my Mom naked.
I'd never seen her naked before.
I put my hand on the refrigerator door to steady myself. I was kind of freaking out. Not just because I'd seen Mom 100%, completely naked, I mean like head-to-toe stark naked, but also because, well, she looked good.
She looked really good.
My dick was hard from thinking about it. Uncomfortably hard. It was pushing against my pants but cramped and bent to the side and wanting to stretch itself out.
Mom. Naked.
We weren't a prudish family, exactly, but we weren't the kind of family to let it all hang out, either. Mom was a private, modest person. She was attractive, but I couldn't recall her ever wearing something I'd call "sexy." Since her divorce from Dad, six years earlier, it had been just the two of us, in the house together, and I had never, ever seen Mom undressed.
Until now.
I thought about what I'd seen.
She had a great body. It felt weird to think that, but it was true. She was medium height, with a thin waist and full breasts. They sagged a little, which was normal, I guessed, for a woman in her 40s, but not too much. Her nipples were rosy and stood straight out. I couldn't get them out of my mind. Her legs were long and shapely. Mom wasn't a gym rat, but she kept herself in good shape, that was for sure.
But the thing I thought about most was her pussy.
Mom's pussy.
Actually, I hadn't seen her pussy at all. I'd seen this enormous dark brown bush. It covered everything.
It was like a jungle down there, to tell the truth.
I was kind of surprised. Mom was a tidy, orderly sort of person and it was kind of weird to think about this wild, unruly tangle of fur between her legs.
I'd seen plenty of other pussies, although with the lockdown it had been a while since I'd seen my last one. Most girls I'd fucked either shaved it off completely or kept a neat, little landing strip. One girl I knew got a wax job and she was proud to show it to me and man that sweet little thing was smooth. I think I spent half an hour kissing it and licking it before we fucked.
I'd never seen anything like Mom's wild bush. I couldn't get it out of my mind. I'd seen my Mom's pubic hair. Holy shit. It was wild to think about it. To be honest, I was a little disappointed. It had been so thick I hadn't seen any of her pussy. Not even a tiny bit of lip or clit or hood.
Now I'd never get a chance to see it. Mom was sure to keep her door closed from now on, to prevent that from happening again.
I wondered what her pussy looked like. I wondered if she had long delicious lips that dangled down or if she had one of those cute little pussies where everything was kind of tucked away.
I'd never know. It was disappointing.
I opened the refrigerator and made a turkey sandwich without mustard.
Later, I went back to my room and sat through two more classes on my computer. Then I did some homework assignments. By the time I was done it was getting late and it was close to dinner time. I wandered out from my room to the kitchen. Mom was there, pulling a casserole dish out of the oven. The rich smell of tomato sauce filled the room. She had cooked a lasagna.
She didn't say anything. It seemed like she was looking away from me. I set the table and tossed a green salad. We sat at the dinner table and started eating and neither of us said anything for a few minutes. At last, I spoke. I felt I had to break the silence.
"Mom, I'm sorry about this morning."
"It's OK," she said, haltingly. "You didn't know I was . . . you know. I should have shut the door."
"No," I said. "I should have knocked. I'm really sorry about that. I know it was . . . embarrassing."
"It was." She nodded. She looked up at me with a thin smile. "You've never seen your old Mom like that."
"No, that's for sure," I said. "It was a surprise. But, you know, you're not old."
"Definitely not. You don't look old."
"I'm glad to hear that." She fiddled with her fork over her plate filled with lasagna.
"You look great, Mom. Really."
She laughed, at last. The awkward tension at the table broke, and I laughed, too. We laughed together. It was nice to see Mom laugh. She'd been alone for a long time since the divorce. I don't think she'd been on a date for a year. I encouraged her to date even though it was weird thinking about my Mom dating. But with her job, and me, and dealing with COVID-19, there was no chance to date. We were cooped up in the house alone together.
"Well," she said. "I'm glad you weren't horrified. You saw more of your Mom than you ever had today."
"Definitely not horrified," I said.
"So, you don't –" she paused before finishing.
"What?" I asked.
"You don't think badly of me?"
"What do you mean, 'badly'? Of course not. Why would I think that?"
"I don't know. It's just weird that you saw me, you know –"
"Yeah," she said, and her eyes turned down to her plate.
"Mom, don't worry about it. It was weird. Yeah. But you look great." I was talking a mile a minute at this point and felt like I couldn't stop myself. "I mean, you look better than a lot of girls I know. Pretty awesome, actually. Although you do have –" I stopped myself.
"What?" Mom asked, looking up from her pasta and salad.
I shook my head. "Never mind."
"No, I want to know. What do I have?"
"It's embarrassing to say it."
"You can say it."
"I'd rather not."
"I want you to."
"Well, it's just," I responded. God, it was hard to talk about, but for some reason Mom seemed to want me to talk about it. "You're kind of . . . hairy. Down there."
"Oh!" she said, and she looked at me with an open mouth and wide eyes.
"Is that different from the girls you know?" she asked. Her eyebrows arched.
"Yeah," I said after a long pause.
"Tell me."
"Mom, it's a strange thing to talk about with your Mom."
"These are strange times, Tommy," she said. "Tell me. I'm curious. What's so different about me?"
"OK, you want to know," I said. "Most girls I know shave things . . . down there. They either shave it completely or keep a little landing strip. You know what a landing strip is?"
"Yes, Tommy," she said. "I know what a landing strip is. I'm not totally ignorant."
"I know you're not. I was just surprised –" I couldn't finish the thought.
"That your Mom was so . . . bushy?" She said and she laughed a little.
We both laughed and it helped break what otherwise was almost unbearable and awkward tension. I was talking with my Mom about her pussy and pubic hair. It was so weird. But — I couldn't help it — it was a huge turn-on, too. I was rock hard inside my pants and I was glad that Mom couldn't see the bulge beneath the table. I kept thinking about that jungle of dark hair and the unseen treasure that lay beneath it. God, it was arousing.
I'd never thought of my Mom this way. She was an attractive woman, but she was, you know, my Mom. You're not supposed to think of your Mom that way. But as I sat across the dinner table from her, I was thinking about her naked body — her hot naked body — and imagining what her pussy looked like under that deep, dark forest of fur.
"I guess I'm old-school," Mom said. "I've always had a thing about shaving my hair down there. I don't know why. I'm worried I might cut myself or something."
I waved my hand. "You don't need to worry about that. It's no big deal."
"No?" she looked at me. "How would you know?"
I got uncomfortable again.
"Well, I mean, it's like . . . I've done it."
"Done what?"
"I've . . . you know. I've done it for girlfriends." I paused again. "This is really awkward."
"You've shaved them?" Mom asked.
"Yeah," I said.
"Wow," she said. "They let you do that." Mom smiled again. "That's a lot of trust. My talented son."
Now, I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed, and I don't pretend to be the smoothest guy with girls, although I do OK, but at that moment, with my Mom sitting across the table eating lasagna and talking about shaving pussies, the realization hit me, like a thunderbolt: my Mom was being flirty with me. We were having a conversation about her pussy hair, and it was suddenly obvious to me that she was enjoying it. Holy shit.
My attitude about girls was, when a girl opens a door, don't ignore it. Walk though. Mom opened a door. Yeah, she was my Mom. But she was a girl. And, let's face it, she was kind of hot.
I walked through the door.
"You know, if you're worried about shaving yourself, I could do it myself." There. I said it.
"You –"She stopped. "Now you're being silly."
"Why?" I asked, and I tried to put on the most sincere and ingenuous expression I could, like it was the most natural thing in the world for a son to offer to shave his Mom's pussy.
"Tommy, come on," Mom said.
"Come on, what?" I asked, still feigning innocence.
"We can't, you know. Do that."
There was something in the tone of her voice, and with the brilliance of a thousand suns in that moment I realized: she was thinking about it. She said, "We can't," but she didn't mean it. She meant something else. Her body twitched in her seat and her eyes wandered around the room and I knew — I knew — she was thinking about letting me shave her. She was imagining it, and so was I.
I had an advantage, and I sure as hell was going to push it.
"Sure we can, Mom," I said, and I put an extra emphasis on "Mom." "I've done it a lot. It's no problem. I think you'd like it."
"And how would you know that, Tommy?" she asked.
"Girls I know say they like the way it feels. It makes, you know, sex better. There's more feeling. More skin to skin contact. And it's nice, you know, to be able to see everything. Instead of covering it up."
Mom didn't say anything. She just looked at me. I felt bold and I stood up from the table and walked around to her side. I held out a hand.
"Come on," I said.
"Come on, what?" she asked.
"Let's go shave you," I answered.
"Tommy, be real. We can't do that."
"Of course, we can." I pushed my chair back and stood up and walked around the table. I took Mom's hand. I looked into Mom's eyes. God, this was crazy. I wanted to see Mom naked. I wanted to see her pussy, and shave off her hair, and I wanted to revel in the sight of her bare labia. And the craziest thing of all was that Mom was actually thinking about it. I could tell. She was turned on. And there was no way I was going to squander an opportunity like that.
I tugged at her hand.
"Tommy, no," she said. But she didn't resist. Mom rose from her chair as I pulled her. I clasped her hand and didn't let go and I walked her to her bedroom. Her bathroom was attached to it. I flicked the light switch. The bathroom was all white tile, bathed in bright light. I turned around to Mom.
"Where's your razor?" I asked.
"Tommy, this is ridiculous," she said. "You know we can't do this."
"I know we can," I said. "I want to shave your pussy, Mom."
We stared at each other and her eyes said everything that her words couldn't. She was horny and her scruples were fading.
I started opening drawers in her bathroom cabinet. I found a can of shaving gel and a bag full of pink disposable razors. I pulled one out.
"Here we go," I said. "I don't know what the deal is with pink razors."
"That's what I use," Mom said, in a tiny voice.
"It's what I'm going to use on you," I said. I was getting bolder by the moment. I couldn't explain it. The day before, I'd never imagined something like this happening or even wanting it to happen. But now, I knew I was going to get Mom naked. I knew it. And oh God I wanted that.
I turned the hot water spigot on.
"You need to take your clothes off, Mom," I said.
She didn't move.
"I can take them off for you, if you like," I said.
"Tommy –"
I put my finger on her lips and she stopped talking.
"I know you want me to do this, Mom," I said. "I want to do this. Don't pretend. Just let me do it. I'm going to take your clothes off now."
Mom didn't say anything. I could tell she wanted to, but she couldn't make the words come. She wanted to be naked. I knew it. But she couldn't bring herself to say it. Yet, I needed to hear her say it.
"Say you want me to do this, Mom," I said.
"Oh Tommy, I can't," she said.
"Yeah, you can, Mom," I said. "Tell me you want me to shave you."
Time passed. I don't know how much time. Maybe a minute. It seemed like longer. Mom wanted to say something, and I knew what she wanted to say but it was the hardest thing in her life that she had ever said.
"OK," she said.
"OK, what?" I responded.
"Shave me," she said.
"I will."
Mom wore blue jeans and a tight-fitting long-sleeve shirt. I unbuttoned the jeans and Mom looked down at my hands, undressing her.
God, it was so weird, but so hot, too.
As the buttons came undone her panties came into view. They were pale blue, and filmy.
"I need to pull these off," I said.
I pulled the jeans down her legs. Mom just stood there, saying nothing. I knew she wanted this to happen, but she couldn't tell me she wanted it. So, I took control.
When the pants were on the floor, she lifted her feet and stepped out of them. I pushed them aside.
I stood up and my hands went to her shirt. I started pulling up on it.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"I'm taking your shirt off," I said.
"I don't want to get your shirt messy when I shave," I said. The reality was I wanted Mom to be completely naked. I wanted to see her tits while I shaved her pussy. But I couldn't say that. I came up with a bullshit reason to get her naked. I needed to see her naked.
Mom didn't argue. She let me take her shirt off. After I tossed it to the bathroom counter, she stood in front of me in little blue panties and a white, modest bra. I saw the bra had a clasp at the front, so my hands went to work unclasping it.
The bra sprang free and Mom's hot boobs sprang forth. Holy fuck, they looked good. They were firm and full, and her nipples were hard.
"One thing left," I said.
My hands went to her blue panties and pulled down. I pulled them off quickly because I was concerned that Mom might change her mind. But she didn't. She said nothing. I pulled the panties down and the thick, full forest of her bush popped out. Oh my God was she hairy. The panties fell to her feet.
"Step up," I said. Mom complied and she stepped away from her panties.
She was completely naked. My Mom.
I looked into her eyes.
"Mom," I said.
"Tommy," she said back to me.
I gestured to the bathtub.
"Sit over here," I said.
Mom did as I asked.
"Spread your legs open," I said. "I need to do something."
I opened a drawer and found the scissors.
"I need to trim the hair before I shave it," I said.
"OK," Mom said, but she held her legs together.
I pushed them open. Mom's wild, hairy bush lay in front of me. For the first time, I saw Mom's pussy under the bush. I wanted to see it better. I started clipping. I grabbed some of her pussy hair and pulled it away from her.
"Damn, Mom, that's over two inches," I said.
"Sorry," she said.
"No need to be sorry, but it's going to be fun shaving this off. You're going to be smooth and bare when I'm done."
I went to work, snipping off her hair so it would be easier to shave. It took a long time because it was so thick, and Mom's dark pubic hair made a mess of the floor as I cut It off. I think Mom blushed. She was embarrassed, but she offered no resistance. I cut her hair in silence. I was mesmerized by the sight of her pussy coming into view as I cut the hair away. Removing the hair exposed her lips. They were plump and pretty, and a hint of pink lay between them.
My God, I realized. I was looking inside my Mom's pussy. And even through the thicket of her hair I could tell it was wet. The pink skin inside her glistened in the bathroom light.
I kept snipping away. I took my time. I was enjoying the view and I didn't want to hurry. And Mom didn't seem to be in a hurry, either. She kept her legs apart and her head down, looking at my handiwork. I could tell it turned her on. I don't know how I knew, but I knew. It turned me on that she was turned on. She was exposing her cunt to her son, and she liked it. Sometimes, as I snipped away at her hair, my hand brushed against her lips, pushing them further back and more open. The full, pink depths of Mom's pussy came into sight.
I stopped and looked at what I'd done.
"I think we're done with the clipping," I said. "Time to shave." I tried to sound clinical and professional about it, but the truth was, I was horny as hell. My cock was pushing hard against my pants. I was staring at a bare, wet pussy, and I wanted to fuck it badly, even if it was my mother's.
I pulled a washcloth from a bar on the wall and ran it under the hot water pouring from the spigot. I squeezed the excess water from it and turned back to Mom. Her legs were open, still, and she waited for me.
I pressed the hot washcloth against her open pussy, and she gasped.
"It'll be OK," I said as I wiped the washcloth up and down the space between her legs, pressing into and over her pussy and her asshole. I had to get her hair nice and wet and soft for shaving.
When I was done with the washcloth, I sprayed shaving gel into my hands, and I rubbed it into a fine, white lather. I rubbed it over Mom, between her legs. My hands took their time as they found her openings. I felt the delicious petals of her pussy under my fingers, and I felt the puckered apex of her little asshole, too. Mom just sat there, watching what I was doing, not daring to meet my eyes with hers.
I held the pink razor under the hot running water for twenty seconds, and then I pulled it out. It was time.
Mom's hairy pussy beckoned me, waiting to be shaved.
So, I shaved it.
I started at the top, above her pubic mound, where her hair was thick and dark despite my having trimmed it. I pulled the pink razor down, over her skin, watching as the hair came away and a thick matte of it encrusted the razor. I turned on the bathtub spigot and washed the razor after every stroke. I figured that the thicket of Mom's pussy hair might clog the drain, but I didn't care. I just wanted to see it fall away from her. Stroke after stroke, Mom's hair disappeared, and the glorious skin of her pussy emerged into view.
I wanted to rid the area right around her pussy of all its hair, so I reached out and took her pussy lip between my fingers and stretched it out, away from her. My cock was like a rock at the sight of it. I put the pink razor to the lip, and I scraped it down, slowly. The hair came away. What remained was bare and pink and perfect. I pulled the other lip away and did the same.

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