Mother and Son sexual negotiations

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You could have called me a weirdo, a geek, nerd, or momma’s boy… fact, a lot of other kids at school did. Now you can also call me a motherfucker….

This started recently, just before I finished high school. I wasn’t into normal sports (football, basketball, baseball) but I loved the alternate sports: hiking, mountain climbing, biking. even let me go sky diving twice, It freaked her out but it made me happy, so she was happy…

I have never been a social person…too much of a computer geek and a loner. My favorite past time is hiking alone for days in the wilderness. A two to five day hike in the Pacific Northwest Mountains I call home is something I try to do at least once a month. It plays hell with my grades and disapproving teachers. Mother spoils me rotten as long as I maintain a ‘B’ average or better in all the main subjects.

For my birthday, Mother finally relented and gave me a two month hike in the distant Rockies. She always worried, but suppressed her concerns, when it came to supporting my interests. However, this was something that really had her freaking out. She helped me prep because I had been begging for this for a year now. She cleared my absence from school and funded my transportation and supplies, but this came with a price -endless arguments for me to reconsider, or at least put it off until I was ancient.

To prepare for this adventure I shopped all week to get all the best and proper gear and to ensure I got everything I needed from my check list. I decided to setup camp in the backyard beforehand; always pretest your gear or you’re screwed when you need it the most.


The weekend finally came, and I started setting up my camp to make sure I had everything. I even soaked the tent with the yard sprinkler to check for any possible leaks. strolled out of the back sliding door to check up on me like normal. She had a large bath towel and a bottle of sun lotion in hand as she was on her way to our pool to get some sun, and also to let me know there was lasagna baking in the stove. ETA would be about two hours.

She looked way too serious and sad, as I had never been away from home for more than a week and a half, and that was just a trip to visit the grandparents. I was expecting another argument and of course she didn’t disappoint.

I assured her that I would be fine like always, but the more I talked, the more she tried to convince me otherwise. This time something seemed a bit, well, really odd. She just stood there staring at me, arms crossed for fifteen minutes, like she was lost in thought.

After a while she finally gave up and continued on her way to get some sun. That night at dinner she brought up the subject again and asked if there wasn’t something she could do to persuade and or entice me to stay home. I looked up from my food, my fork stopping in mid-air, dripping lasagna sauce, to find Mother was actually pinching her left nipple through her dress. My eyes bugged out and I nearly choked to death on a bite of cheese…

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