She had known that her handsome son had grownup to be a stud, a beefcake, masculine and obviously virile when he walked around the house in his jockey shorts in the morning, his erection often conspicuous. She had never scolded him because secretly she got a kick out of seeing how big and sexy her baby had grown. His sister stopped bitching about it a couple of years ago when they were both finally of college age. She wondered if her daughter had gotten over being embarrassed by the exhibitionism of his masculinity because she too came to appreciate the opportunity to have a good-looking brother parading around with a Playgirl centerfold body on display. Now that morning erection was pressing tight to her tummy and doing things to her head in ways that a mother shouldn’t think about her own son. “We ought not to . . . Please, Honey I didn’t mean that we . . . Sweetie, stop I’m your mother, its to dangerou . . . oooh uhh!” her words changed to moans as his hands moved to. ‘Got to go, talk to you later’, was all she managed to type and click off he messenger window as Sam was walking through the front door, while her body was still shivering with the just experienced pleasure. Her face must have been glowing and guilt was probably plastered all over it, too. He came into the room and gave her a puzzled look. “What?” she asked and couldn’t keep herself from smiling. Sam smiled back and peeped over her shoulder, onto the blank e-mail window, which she managed to open up just as he was approaching. “What are you doing?” he asked with a look of suspicion.“Nothing!” she said and still the smile wouldn’t fade away. “What?” she asked again. He bent over to her and cringed his nose. “You smell funny.” He concluded, which almost made her holler in laughter. “Well, yeah!” she said as if he was stating the obvious. “It’s hot in here and I’m musty.” His eyes narrowed. “I just came back from a jog, too.” She lied. That seemed to satisfy him enough to lose interest.
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