Joseph and His Mother

Joseph stopped. He didn't want to get his mother into any trouble. "Well, I think that's fine...for now." He gave her a few affectionate pats.

"Well, Joseph, it appears your mother's bottom is a bit pink. What did your mother do, Joseph, when you had a boo-boo?"

His mother had never referred to an injury that way, at least not that he could remember, but he felt he understood what his aunt was suggesting. "She'd put some ointment or cream on it?"

"No, no, Joseph, I was thinking along the lines of kissing it to make it feel better."

Joseph's cock twitched in agreement. He smiled as he responded, "Oh yes, yes, she would do that too."

"I never did anything like that at all!" Deborah protested.

"Well, I think I'll be a bit more considerate," Joseph suggested.

Dr. Lowenstein smiled at Joseph's spontaneous expression of assertiveness.

Joseph got down on his knees before his mother's reddened butt and planted a firm kiss on each cheek.

"Joseph!" Deborah complained. Her husband had never done anything like that. He liked to fondle, caress, and clutch her bottom, but he never actually kissed it. It was actually rather sweet and intimate, although she did feel rather awkward over the fact that it wasn't as perky and taut as it had been when she was first married. Plus, again, it was her son doing the kissing, rather than a husband.

Kissing his mother's ass was something that Joseph felt he often had to do, but now he was actually doing it and enjoying it very much. It was a very sweet and pleasing ass. Joseph kissed it all over the place, even down within the crack, at times caressing her soft pink warm cheeks with his lips or even with his own cheek.

Deborah began to actually enjoy it. It was helpful in soothing the sting, and it was a rather sweet and intimate expression of affection, at least the way Joseph was doing it.

Joseph slipped a finger under the thong strap just at the beginning of his mother's butt crack, and then slid his finger slowly down, drawing the strap out from her crack.

Deborah raised her head and looked back at him. "What are you doing?" she inquired.

Joseph used his other hand to spread open her left cheek, bringing into view his mother's puckered little anus. He smiled at the sight.

"Joseph, what are you looking it!" She knew full well what he was looking at, and she frankly wasn't so sure that she really wanted him to tell her.

"You have a very cute little butt hole, mother," Joseph observed.

"Joseph, please! That's no way to talk to your mother!" Her husband had most certainly never said that before! She had in fact at times been rather self-conscious about her butt hole when he was doing it to her from behind, wondering if he could in fact see it (of course he could), and whether it was rather repulsive to look at. She had never imagined that a man would actually find it attractive. She certainly hoped that her son was not developing some sort of perversion!

Joseph smiled at her response. She was perhaps risking another spanking with such protest and defiance, but the complaints in fact added to his pleasure.

"Mother, if you wouldn't mind, could you reach back and spread your cheeks open?"

"Joseph, please! I will do no such thing."

Now she was most definitely risking another spanking.

Dr. Lowenstein considered stepping in before Joseph backed down.

"If you would like another spanking, mother, I will be quite willing to provide it."

Dr. Lowenstein was pleased.

Her sister though was not, and Deborah groaned with humiliation as she reached back and spread open her butt cheeks with her hands, providing Joseph an even better view of her anus.

Joseph reached out and lightly, gently, caressed the puckered curls.

Deborah instinctively squeezed her sphincter tightly shut at the first touch of her son's finger. There was no way she was going to let him in there. She couldn't imagine him even wanting to do that. This was where she would draw the line!

Joseph was intrigued, and aroused, by the feel of the curly red tightly squeezed hole. Plus, it was such an intimate part of his mother. "Did dad ever touch you there?"

Deborah blushed as she turned her face away, not wanting her son to see the shameful and embarrassed expression on her face, although risking a stranger or neighbor witnessing it through the bay window if she did not keep up her watch, her vigil. She responded softly, "No, no he didn't." She wasn't sure if she should feel embarrassed by that admission, or if it was just her more general embarrassment bleeding into her answer.

"Well, I guess that was his loss. Mother, really, I think it's kind of cute, even adorable. Have you ever looked at it yourself?"

"No," she quietly responded. She so much wanted this conversation to end, along with the entire psychodrama. But, still, she was beginning to find his light caresses to be rather pleasing. It was a little ticklish, which caused her bottom to squirm a bit, but it also felt so intimate, so sensual. She hadn't appreciated before how many nerve endings were there, and what it would feel like to have another person touch her there. When it's done by someone else it can be so, so spicy, and perhaps because it was so shameful, so naughty and wrong.

She even sighed with disappointment when he removed his finger.

But, she gasped with shock and excited delight when she felt her son's lips press against her rosebud. "Joseph, my goodness!" Her eyes opened wide. Anyone looking at the window now would have no doubt that something quite risque was happening. Miss Lowenstein bent over, her boobs hanging down, her eyes wide open in shock, her son's face apparently pressed into her butt.

Joseph though didn't keep his lips there long. As soon as he made contact with her anus he felt arousal, excitement, and doubt, all mixed together. Perhaps kissing a woman's anus was a perverted thing to do, and especially risky when it's done in the presence of a professional sex therapist. Dr. Lowenstein can't approve of that! He removed his lips and glanced back at the doctor, his aunt.

Dr. Lowenstein, however, just smiled and nodded with approval. Joseph was making very, very good progress.

Joseph patted his mother's bottom and got back up on his feet. "Okay, mother, I think that's enough...for now."

Deborah stayed bent over for a bit longer. She wasn't really sure she in fact wanted him to stop. Her pussy felt so warm and moist. But, she most certainly was relieved to be able to get out of the sight of a passing neighbor. She stood up as well, and reached back to get the strap of her thong back down into the crack of her butt.

Joseph let his mother do her housework. He needed some time to process with Dr. Lowenstein what had just happened.

He did though keep a close eye on his mother throughout the day, checking up on her, at times even helping her out with some of the cleaning.

Deborah wasn't sure how she felt about it. She had become intensely excited by the teasing ministrations of her son, such wonderful sensations that she had not experienced in years and never expected to experience again. But she could not get it out of her mind that this was her son, and that this was so terribly wrong. Yet, that was also what made it so enticing, so provocative.

She found herself enjoying the fact that she was exciting her son. She had always enjoyed dressing provocatively for her husband, taking pride in the fact that she had such an effect on a man, that she was a very desirable, attractive woman that could drive a man to his knees, openly pleading to be able to see what was under her dress, to touch and feel what he so desperately yearned for.

Her husband had never asked her to wear an outfit as slutty as Joseph had required, and would certainly not have done so outside of the privacy and safety of the bedroom, but that again added to the special thrills she was experiencing. She really didn't know what to expect from her son, what he might ask of her, require of her. She could feeling her cunnie lips moistening and melting at the thought, at the expectation, the anticipation.

Still, it was also a bit demeaning to have her son ogle her like that as she bent over to pick up something from the floor, her largely naked bottom coming back into full view, his hand at times reaching out to give her a little affectionate pat, perhaps even a fondle and caress. It was the hand of her son! It just felt so wrong, so bad, so disrespectful and inappropriate. But, she could see that her son was indeed becoming more confident, more assertive, and that was most certainly a very good thing.

Dinner was particularly difficult, as her breasts were so wantonly displayed. She had originally been planning on serving chicken, but decided against it. Puns about thick, juicy breasts would, of course, be quite silly and juvenile, but she would prefer to simply avoid them altogether. Plus, their presence on the dinner table would only further accentuate the presence of her own, if any further titillation was really possible.

She was also struck by how much her bosoms wiggled and jiggled as she passed around the plates and ate her own meal. They were really impossible to keep still or ignore, and it was evident that Joseph was enjoying the feast for his eyes as well as the more conventional one for his mouth. At times he wouldn't even look away when she caught him staring at them. He would just smile at her.

"You really do have lovely breasts, mother," he eventually acknowledged. "This ham is really good too." It was only natural to compliment the meal that mom prepared, and it seemed comparably natural to compliment her looks.

"Uh, thank you, Joseph," Deborah replied.

"They really are very nice, Deborah," Susan agreed. She in fact was feeling a little jealous. Joseph had so much enjoyed her breasts the other night but it was clear now where his full attention was focused. But, this was not a competition among women, sisters no less, this was an important therapeutic process and she had to maintain her professional detachment. Much as she would like Joseph to notice her own breasts again, it was important for him to bond, to connect, with his mother. She would not interfere with that.

"Yes, well, thank you as well, Susan." Such a compliment from her husband would have been comfortably received, but their comments only made her even more self-conscious about their exposure.

"Is your blouse irritating your nipples, mother?"

"What?" She looked with concern at her son.

"I was just thinking that maybe without a brassiere, and with them swinging around like that, beneath your blouse, that they might feel a little scratchy, or itchy."

Deborah could feel her face turning red again. "No, no, they're fine, son. They're fine." She wondered if he was going to suggest that she remove her blouse. She would certainly prefer not to, but given its sheerness it really wouldn't make that much difference.

"Why don't you try rubbing your glass of ice water against them. Maybe that will help sooth them."

"Excuse me?"

"Just rub each one of them a little bit. I think they'd like that."

"That's a very wonderful suggestion, Joseph," Dr. Lowenstein agreed. "How very considerate of you."

Deborah sighed deeply, her breasts rising with the intake of air, then falling with the release. She reached for her cold glass of ice water, upon which there was considerable condensation. She pressed the cold, wet glass against her left nipple, releasing a little whimper as she did so, both in response to the feel of the very cold, wet glass against her nipple, and at the realization of what she was doing, in front of her son, and her sister.

"Rub it around a bit," Joseph instructed. "I think that will help."

"Yes, son," she meekly replied, feeling her nipple stiffen to full strength. She then shifted the glass to her right nipple, and whimpered again as she looked down to see how her left nipple was now even more exposed. It was taut and distended, and her whole areola was clearly evident through the moistened fabric.

She continued to sigh and whimper in response to the provocative and pleasing sensations. The cold wetness against her nipple did feel rather nice. If she was by herself she would enjoy this with much more abandon.

"I think she likes it, Joseph," Dr. Lowenstein observed. "That was very thoughtful to make the suggestion."

"Thank you, Dr. Lowenstein. I mean, Aunt Susan."

Dr. Lowenstein smiled back. It was only natural for Joseph to get a bit confused as to what to call her, as she was both his aunt and now his family therapist.

Deborah returned her glass to the table, feeling a bit flustered and confused, her breasts rising and falling a bit more quickly, and noticeably.

Susan asked, "A woman's nipples do look very nice when they're pointing out so stiffly. Don't you think so, Deborah?"

"I suppose," Deborah softly replied, and then added, a smile suddenly appearing on her face, "Why don't you try it yourself? I don't imagine Joseph would mind. Would you, Joseph?"

Joseph wouldn't mind at all and his head quickly turned to his aunt, his eyes shifting from her breasts to her face, waiting expectantly for her answer.

Susan giggled. "Oh, don't you think I haven't thought about it. I certainly have, but this is really a moment between the mother and son. It would not be right, as a therapist, to get in the way of that."

Joseph was disappointed, but that did make sense. He would just have to settle at the dinner table with his mother's nipples, but that was hardly a burden. He turned back to smile at his mother. "Well, I think your nipples, mother, are plenty good enough for me."

Dr. Lowenstein smiled. That should be true for any son, and it was so nice to hear Joseph's affirmation of his feelings for his mother.

Deborah smiled back, not quite sure how best to respond, feeling in fact rather foiled in her effort to shift some of the attention to her sister.

During the course of the dinner Joseph had his mother redo the applications of the cold, wet glass a few more times. It was helpful in keeping the nipples nicely stiff. In fact, during desert he had her just take an ice cube out of her glass and apply it directly. That turned out to be a pretty good idea as he and Susan could see that she responded especially well to that, at times even gasping, her breasts heaving.

Dr. Lowenstein suggested after dinner that mother and son engage in a trust exercise.

"Trust exercise?" Deborah inquired, with understandable trepidation.

"Oh yes," Susan responded. "They are quite common during group, family, and marital therapies. I'm sure you've heard of them."

"I guess I have," Deborah replied.

"Oh yes, of course you have. You know, sometimes persons fall backwards into the hands of a partner, trusting that they will be caught."

Deborah took a deep breath. She imagined in this case she would have to fall forward, with Joseph catching her by her breasts. Her sister wouldn't have him do that, would she?

"But, in psychosexual psychodrama it's a bit different."

Somehow Deborah was not surprised.

"We want the exercise in this instance not only to express feelings of trust but also intimacy and bonding."

This really didn't sound good to Deborah, even though perhaps it should. What's wrong with intimacy and bonding?

"The exercise I like to use is to have you shave one another."

"Excuse me?" They both exclaimed, in unison, already beginning to bond.

"Yes, yes, of course. It's a really wonderful way to get close to one another, as well as to express your feelings of trust."

Deborah swallowed and asked the obvious question. "Shave where?"

"Now where do you think, Deborah? You don't think I would have you two shave your heads, do you?" Susan chuckled at her sister's silliness.

"Geez Louise," Deborah said softly. "You want him to shave me...down there?"

Joseph's cock swelled, once again, and he felt rather surprised that it did. Shaving a woman had never been one of his masturbation fantasies, and he had quite a few of them, but clearly his dick liked the idea.

"Of course, of course," Susan replied matter-of-factly.

"I've never even shaved myself, down there," Deborah noted, somewhat quietly, finding it a bit awkward to discuss this in the presence of her son.

"Well, gracious me, why not?"

"Why not? What for?"

"Well, you shave your legs, don't you? You shave under your arms. You trim your eyebrows and eye lashes. Why not take care of the unsightly hair in your most feminine spot, the very spot that interests a man the most."

Deborah was taken aback. She fell silent. Her sister seemed to be making a good argument. She had never thought about it that way before. She had never thought about shaving down there at all, although when she was married, when her husband was loving her, down there, with his mouth, she had felt that her hair must have been a bit annoying, if not unpleasant, for him.

Susan could see that Deborah had no further objection, or at least no further argument. "Alright then, let's get started. Deborah, I'm sure you have the necessary equipment. Why don't you go get it. Joseph, why don't you fill up the big popcorn bowl with some hot water. We can set everything up in the family room where everyone will be most comfortable.

It took awhile to get everything arranged, perhaps due in part to Deborah dragging her feet. She also suggested that they do it in the bathroom, where she normally shaved. The bathroom can be a nice place for psychodrama as it was a very intimate and private room, but Dr. Lowenstein felt that the environment there would be too stark and austere.

Once everything was nicely arranged on the coffee table, Joseph asked, "Are we going to do this at the same time?"

"Well, in advanced stages of therapy," Dr. Lowenstein explained, "I would have you do it at the same time, but you two are just beginners and so we will make it simple. You can take turns. Susan, why don't you first shave Joseph, and then he can do you when you're done."

It was now Joseph's turn for his heart to race, to be suddenly fraught by feelings of apprehension and doubt.

"Come on now," Dr. Lowenstein encouraged her nephew, "Get your pants and underwear off so that your mother can cut your hair."

Deborah had cut her son's hair when he was little, and she felt she had done a pretty good job at it. She in fact resisted for quite some time to let him get it done by a professional barber. He had complained that he was too old to have his mother still cutting his hair and he wanted it done a certain special way that she couldn't or wouldn't do. She had felt though that the money they saved by having her continue to do it was a pretty darned good argument.

Those memories flooded back, for the both of them, as Joseph removed his pants and boxers. But, the memory of the past was suddenly halted by the immediacy of the moment when Joseph's erection came into view.

Deborah turned away, her face reddening.

"Well, my, my," Dr. Lowenstein exclaimed as she draped a few towels on one of the easy chairs. "It appears that Joseph is quite excited about having his mother cut his hair."

Joseph's erection was due largely to his mother's outfit, particularly her exposed breasts, as well as the thought of shaving her pussy, but now that his cock was out he had to admit that it was kind of nice to be showing it off to his mother and aunt. He was reminded again, as he had been the other night, of how so many times as a child he would display some prize or achievement to his mother, seeking her admiration, her approval, her love. He again wondered how she felt about his stiff dick. She had never actually said anything the other night, although actions can speak louder than words.