Under Mom's Bed - Reconciliation

adifferentindianfamily©

Disclaimer: All characters engaged in sexual activity in this story are above 18 years of age.

This is the third chapter to my series 'Under Mom's Bed'. New readers, please read the previous two chapter before starting this.

Important Note: This story will explore the aspect of nudity at length before getting into actual incest. Those looking for a quick release may not find suitable inspiration here.

*****

"You're still my child... my baby boy." Mom whispered before bending down to plant a kiss on my lips. Pretending to be asleep on her bed, it took all of my strength to stop myself from responding to the contact of her supple lips on mine. Reigning in my urge to open my eyes and look at her naked body was equally challenging. To compensate for the lack of visual stimulus, my mind replayed what had happened just minutes ago.

I could not believe that I had been so reckless as to climb on an ill-balanced chair to spy on my mom taking a shower in the bathroom through the gap at the top of the bathroom door. It wasn't my nature to be so impetuous. I had always been cautious and risk averse... but something had changed in me. The pull of the sound of running shower had been too strong. The naked image of mom that my mind had flashed as prospective reward was too enticing to ignore. However, all worked out well in the end, with me getting reacquainted with the source of nourishment from my infant days. It had felt amazing latching onto Mom's nipples and suckling.

"My baby boy!" mom whispered again, bringing me back to the present. In a second, I heard her soft footsteps moving away. Unable to hold back any longer, I opened my eyes in a narrow slit. The narrow vision filled up with the sight of mom's heart shaped ass jiggling as she walked towards her almirah, with the towel that she had worn earlier clutched in her hand. With the kind of loose clothes that she usually wore, one could never guess that she had underneath them such a curvy body. I watched as she dried her body and hair with the towel. Once done with the towel, she opened the almirah and searched for clothes to wear and I stared at her back. I traced my eyes over the long crevice separating her bulging ass. It ended at the small gap between her thighs, where I could glean a hint of her pussy lips. My cock jumped in my shorts. She threw certain items in a bunch onto the table beside the almirah before closing it.

She then picked up a grey panty from the bunch and bent down to put her legs through it. One after the other her put her legs into it and then straightened, pulling it up over her butt. I shifted my attention to the side of her meaty tits. Her nipple was just out of my view. She picked up a black unlined bra and put her arms through it. She adjusted its cups over her tits and then reached behind to hook the straps in place. I kept watching as she put on a fresh white kurti and pyjama. I enjoyed for the first time the pleasure of watching a woman going through her fresh out of bath routine. She looked at herself in the mirror for a few seconds once she finished dressing up.

I closed my eyes before she turned her head towards me. I heard her footsteps approaching. In a moment I felt her cool fingers caress my face. I acted as best as I could of waking up groggily. I smiled as I saw her pleasant face.

"Come with me and have breakfast." She spoke softly, still caressing my face.

I washed my face and brushed my teeth before going down. It was half past eleven when I went down and I was famished. I sat down at the dining table waiting for mom to bring me breakfast. I heard her shifting about in the kitchen. My head felt heavy and I sat hunched, feeling quite lazy from the sleep hangover. However, my thoughts were occupied with what had happened minutes ago... specifically the sweet breastmilk that leaked from my mother's breasts into my mouth. I didn't know women could lactate at Mom's age. Even mom seemed surprised with it.

"Sit straight Ajju," I was startled by Mom's voice as she came holding a plate, "how many times have I told you this... bad posture can have severe consequences."

She admonished me probably for the thousandth time. Mom had had some back issues a few years ago. For a few weeks she was in so much pain. It had taken a few physiotherapy sessions and religious adherence to proper posture since then for her back to get better.

"Sorry... I'm just tired." I said, but I straightened my back. She placed the plate in front of me. My face fell visibly seeing the contents... vermicelli upma. I was not particularly fond of this breakfast item, but it was a regular at our breakfast table since dad liked it. Reluctantly, I started eating it. Mom brought a cutting board and sat down on a chair beside me. She started cutting vegetables for lunch.

The only thing I liked about vermicelli upma was the roasted cashew nut pieces mom sprinkled in it. After I had finished half the contents on the plate, I started picking apart the noodle-like strands of vermicelli apart searching for cashew nuts. As I found them, one by one I put them in my mouth and chewed.

"Stop picking at your food... finish the plate." Mom told me.

"I'm done... You know I don't like this." I said.

"Don't waste it." she said and moved her chair closer to mine. When she sat back down her legs touched mine. She picked up my plate with her left hand and used the right to scoop up a morsel from it.

"Here," she thrusted her hand out to my mouth. I parted my lips, distracted by the touch of her legs on mine. Her fingers pushed inside my mouth feeding me. As they moved out, the underside of my lips grazed against her fingers. She waited a few seconds to let me chew it down. She then repeated the motion, bringing another morsel to my mouth. I felt the side of her little finger touch the tip of my tongue as the morsel was left on it and as her fingers retreated, they again grazed against my lips. However, a strand of vermicelli dangled from my bottom lip down onto my chin. Her hand stopped midway and reached back towards my mouth. With her thumb, she pushed the dangling piece into my mouth over my thick bottom lip.

"Some things never change." She said. Her face bore an amused smile as he right hand went back to the plate to pick up another morsel.

"What?" I managed to ask before she fed me another mouthful.

"You never quite got the hang of getting handfed," she said laughing softly, "Every time, either curry or rice would fall out of your mouth and drip onto your chin... sometimes on my lap."

"Once... I was feeding you rice and fish curry and by the time the plate was empty, you looked like you'd grown a red French beard... it was so funny."

"Little guy with a curry beard... if only I had taken a picture then." She added, still laughing. I couldn't help but smile at the thought of me as a child sitting on mom's lap, curry dripping from my chin.

As I chewed and swallowed the mouthful of upma, she brought another morsel to my mouth.

"In many ways, you're still a baby." She said, almost as an afterthought.

I didn't know if she'd want to talk about what had happened earlier... but I felt like it was somehow the perfect time to give voice to the puzzling question inside my head.

"Mom," I started, "earlier... uh... how did... uh... breastmilk... uh..." I trailed off feeling awkward at the way the word sounded in my voice. She looked at me as I struggled to find the right words... patiently listening to me. A tender look of understanding adorned her face and gave me the push to finish the question.

"Why did you lactate earlier?"

"I don't know for sure." She answered and then carefully considered her next words.

"I will have to ask my doctor... but I have a fair idea, and I don't know how you're going to feel about it." She added.

She wiped the plate clean and fed me a last morsel. I chewed it down, running mom's vague answer in my head.

"What is it?" I asked with mouthful of upma. She sat before me with eyes cast down. It looked like she was weighing the decision of whether to tell me or not. Many seconds ticked by while she made up her mind.

"Dad and I... we're trying to get pregnant," The words dropped like bombs on me. Instantly, my mind started picturing myself holding a baby brother or sister in my arms. It evoked a strong reaction within me... but I couldn't put my finger on its nature. More images flashed in my mind haphazardly... my mother's belly ballooning... a cradle with toys in it. I swear I could also hear and smell weird things... like the cries of a baby and the smell of hospital disinfectant. I was getting overwhelmed.

"and at my age, it's rare for it to happen," she continued as I struggled to come to terms with the information, "so I have been having hormone treatment... to increase the chances."

"Doctor had told me there might be some side effects." She added.

The explanation for why she might have lactated fell on deaf ears as my mind worked up various scenarios with the information it was struggling to process.

What would I tell my friends... what would our relatives say... hell what would the neighbours say... an endless loop of questions spawned.

"Say something ajju." Mom spoke unable to bear my silence. Out of the numerous questions swamping my thoughts, none were forthcoming. Instead another surfaced.

"Why?" I heard myself say, "Why now?"

A brief silence ensued. Mom sighed deeply before answering.

"We always wanted a second child... but then a couple of years after you, I had a miscarriage... a bad one... I was too heartbroken to try again... I decided that you were enough for us." She stopped and swallowed.

"But your dad never stopped wanting another child... he never told me, but I could sense it always... how his face fell every time his mother or someone else asked him why we stopped with you."

"Why now?" she spoke after a brief pause. It sounded like she was talking to herself.

"I don't know why now... even after all these years your dad still wanted a second child... and I just didn't have the heart to say no this time." She crossed her arms on the table and laid her head down on them.

With her face hidden, I could only hear her voice now as she spoke, "we didn't really think it through... the more we thought about it, the more impossible it sounded... but the thought of a baby just didn't leave our minds this time."

I saw beads of perspiration at the back of mom's neck as she lay quiet, her head cradled on her arms. I didn't know how to respond to what I'd heard in the past few minutes. My feelings were too muddled to find expression... but I felt bad at the helpless apologetic tone mom's voice conveyed.

"Are you upset?" I heard her voice again. I didn't know for sure if I was... but what was sure was that I wasn't going to give mom any more grief after everything that had happened in the last two days.

"No." I said. She raised her head and straightened at my response. Her eyes stared searchingly into mine.

"I'm not upset," I spoke, "I'm just... overwhelmed, I guess... it was so... unexpected." She placed her right hand softly over my forearm.

"It's just a bit strange, imagining how big your belly will swell... imagining myself holding a baby brother or sister in my arms... don't you feel that way?" I added.

Her face brightened as she replied lovingly, "I can only imagine a tiny baby nuzzled against me as I feed her from my breast... and I can't tell you how amazing it feels to picture that... to have a tiny life that was born out of me close to my heart."

She lifted her hand up from my arm and caressed my face, stroking my cheek with her thumb while the other fingers rested under my chin. Mom's smile was too pure to elicit anything but happiness in me. I closed my eyes and leaned my head to the left nestling my head against her hands.

A few happy seconds ticked by before I opened my eyes. As an unintended consequence of my leaned head, my line of sight rested on her bosom where a curious patch of dampness had formed on the kurti... precisely over the nipple. My cock tingled in my shorts as I realized that there could only be one cause for it. I felt my tongue salivate as I thought about the sweet milk that was leaking from mom's breast. The damp patch was growing and becoming transparent, displaying the black colour of her bra.

"Mom!" the word left my mouth almost as a breathy sigh. Drawn by my voice, her eyes followed my line of sight and found what they were focused on. She removed her hand from my face and brought it to her bosom. She pinched the cloth of the white kurti and pulled. The black colour of the damp patch vanished as the kurti pulled away from the bra.

"Again?" I found myself asking aloud.

"I don't know why this is happening..." she spoke.

I was as mesmerized as I was perplexed at what my eyes were seeing.

"Arrrgh!" she groaned in frustration and stood. She turned and walked away leaving me alone at the dining table. Her hips swayed womanly as she climbed the stairs and disappeared into her room.

I witnessed my body respond like a moth drawn to a flame. My legs carried me up the stairs following the path she had taken. I was at her door soon. It was wide open. I could not see her from the doorway.

"Mom?" I called, not wanting to commit the same mistake of invading her privacy a second time today.

"Mmm" I heard her murmur. I took it for permission and entered. Her figure appeared on the right periphery of my vision. I turned my head right and saw mom pull her kurti up and over her head. She stood before the mirror on the almirah with only the black bra covering her bosom. I stood transfixed as my eyes were drawn to the front of her bra. The fabric of the black bra was considerably darker near her nipple. She lifted her hand up to her breasts and felt the dampness at front.

I watched in awe as her hands then went behind her and snapped the hooks of the bra open in a quick motion. Her hands gripped the fabric and pulled it away from her breasts, revealing her gorgeous round breasts. My eyes focussed on the tips of the mounds and saw the milky white liquid smeared on her areola and drops of it trailing down from her nipple. My cock lurched as one drop made the downward journey over the meaty underside and ran down to her belly.

She picked up the discarded white kurta and dabbed it on her breasts soaking the breastmilk... but where some droplets got soaked, new ones were produced at the tip of mom's nipples. She dabbed again with a little more force and more drops were produced at her nipples. It was an incredible sight.

"It won't stop." She said, exasperated as she continued wiping her breasts with the kurti.

Her voice brought me out of my daze. I didn't know how much was permissible under the new yet blurry boundaries that now existed in our relationship... but I found myself moving towards her.

"Come here mom." I spoke in a loving yet firm tone as I caught hold of her arm. I pulled her gently along as I moved to the bed. I gestured for her to sit near the footboard of the bed. While she sat, I picked up a pillow and placed it on her lap.

"I want it." I said and plopped down, resting my head on the pillow atop her lap. It had happened too quickly for mom to respond. I looked up at her face expectantly. She sat motionless, a hint of hesitation playing in her eyes. Even though I'd suckled on her tits only an hour ago, it was in a tender moment overwhelming maternal affection. Now, she had to make a conscious decision and I could see it was weighing on her mind.

"Feed me like you did before... please." I pleaded. The final reserves of her hesitation melted at my words and she leaned forward a bit. She placed her left arm beneath the pillow and raised it a little. I opened my mouth as my head rose and my lips enveloped the areola of her left breast. I pushed my tongue forward and sucked. A slow stream of sweetness emerged from the tip of her nipple and started filling up my mouth. I gulped it down and sucked more. I turned sideways facing her to gain better access. As I turned, I shifted my arms and wrapped them around her waist. My fingers interlinked at her back and I pressed my face into her bosom while I continued feeding. I heard her chuckle softly and saw her lips curve up in an angelic smile.

"What?" I removed my mouth from mom's nipple and asked. She smiled again.

"Nothing... I just remembered something... from when you were a baby." She said.

"How was I... did I give you a hard time then?" I asked her, trying to picture myself twenty years ago. I wish I remembered all the things from that time. My memories went no farther back than kindergarten.

"No... you were an angel," She said, "but a rather clingy one." She chuckled again.

"What?" I reacted to the amusing accusation.

"Well... you were always clinging to me... you would not go to anybody when they tried to pick you up... you would start crying for me to take you back from them." She was smiling as she spoke.

"And when I breastfed you, you would always put your hands around me like a hug," she sighed, "but your hands weren't so long as to wrap around me like now... they only reached till the sides of my breasts... it was like you were holding me back while I held you in my arms."

I could feel a happiness sprouting inside me as she painted a picture of the past and I smiled looking up at her face. It felt amazing to be in this cosy cocoon of love with mom... but something caught my eye. A bead of breastmilk had grown big at the tip of her nipple fighting against gravity. In the split second before it fell, I pushed out my tongue and licked it. Mom shivered at the sudden movement. I latched onto the nipple and resumed feeding. Her hands responded instinctively swaddling closer to the source of nourishment. It felt like heaven, surrounded by softness all around... mom's breast at my mouth, her soft arms sheltering me and the pillow under my bed. I tried to imagine myself as a baby the way she described it... holding her back while she held me. My left hand retreated from behind her delinking from the right one and grazed her skin as it came around her. It stopped at the side of her right breast and held it gently... like she said I did as a baby. I kept on suckling at her tit, eyes closed, lost in the warmth of her body and the sweet smell of the nectar that filled my mouth.

It was only when the liquid sweetness stopped streaming into my mouth that I opened my eyes. I realized that I had emptied her left breast. I looked up at her. I was surprised to see a grimace contorting her gorgeous face. Her eyes were shut.

"Mom?" I called parting my mouth from her breast. She opened her eyes at my voice.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Mmm... just my back is straining from leaning forward." She said.

"Oh... sorry... do you want to lean against the headboard... or lie down?"

"Let me lie on my back for a few minutes." She replied. I lifted my head up from her. I picked up the pillow under my head and returned it to the head of the bed for her to rest. She lifted her feet up on the bed and shifted herself, reclining and resting her head on the pillow.

"Better" she sighed once she settled. I remained seated concerned about her back issues.

"You could've told me earlier if it was paining." I said.

"It's okay Ajju... I'm fine."

"Come here." She said when she saw the look of concern not leaving my face. I scooted close to her and reclined on my left side facing her. I propped my shoulders up supporting myself using my elbow. She lifted her right forearm and caressed my chin looking deep into my eyes. I brought my free hand toward my face and grasped her caressing hands. With her palm turned downwards, I lowered my head and placed a soft kiss on the soft skin above her knuckles.

"I love you mom... always." I said, in all honesty.

"I love you too baby." She whispered back, smiling at me. She stared lovingly into my eyes.

"Mom?" I spoke again drawing her attention to the question forming in my mind, that I was about to ask.

"Do you... like when I suckle on you like this... now?"

The smile never left her face as she answered, "Yes... my heart feels... content when I have you at my bosom. All those feelings I had when I held you in my arms for the first time all those years ago... they are coming back... I remember thinking, even if no one... even if nothing remains by me, this child will always be mine."

My eyes became moist at her words as my heart welled up with emotions. I kissed her hand again before speaking.

"I will always be yours mom... I will always be your baby." I gave her hand a few more kisses. Her eyes were welling up.

"Oh baby... you don't know how relieved I am to hear that... I was so scared that I had lost your love for me to the lust had appeared in your eyes... after the other day."

Her words took me back to the unresolved and confusing emotions in my mind towards her. It might have reflected on my face for she spoke.

"But... do you still have thoughts about what you saw and heard the other day... when you were under the bed?"

I searched within myself for the answer. Over the past few hours the dangerously unrestrained out of control urges had been tempered by mom's loving words and the comfort of her bosom... but I would be lying if I said no such thoughts remained. They were there beneath the surface... but were they lust... I couldn't tell. The tingling and the hardness in my cock whenever I saw her naked seemed to suggest that... but I couldn't bring myself to think that I was lusting after my own mom. What I felt seemed different somehow... I was in awe over the act of intimacy... the sex that I'd witnessed happen between my parents... and I was mesmerised by mom's nakedness... and my hardening cock was not just a response to a generic female nakedness... it was specific... it was mom's nakedness and it was thoughts of mom having sex that obsessed me... but I had not yet pictured me with her doing what dad did with her. My mind was all muddled.

"I do." I answered truthfully.

"But it's not like you fear... I still love you as I did before all this happened, and I promise you that it's never going to change... but... but now there's more that I feel for you... I am mesmerised by your body... You are so beautiful... I keep getting urges wanting to see your body... and I swear I don't mean to hurt you... but these thoughts in my head, it doesn't feel like perversions... it feels... it feels natural... I don't know... it doesn't feel like lust... I'm rambling now... I don't know mom... did anything I just said make sense?"

She had been listening closely to what I had said... but her face didn't betray any emotion. However, there was a softness in her face unlike the frustrations my actions had elicited earlier. She was trying to understand me... she was keen to understand what I was feeling... and she seemed to want to help me deal with it.

Tears were trailing down my face by now.

"Don't cry Ajju." Mom said.

"We'll get through this... I promise I'll be there for you... I'll listen to you with an open heart... but you have to promise me something in return." She added. I nodded at her conveying my willingness to whatever she wanted.

"You have to promise me... the respect you held in your heart for me, your mother... you cannot let it get distorted... no matter what, you will treat me like your mother... promise me."

"I promise mom," I replied, "I will not let anything affect the love and respect I have for you."

"Promise me you will respect my privacy... promise me you'll not let these urges control you do reckless things... promise me you'll talk things out with me first and let me help."

"I promise mom." I said in all earnestness. Her face took on a content-for-now expression. We stayed like that for a while, with me holding her hand resting my face on it. I was happy that mom now knew what I was struggling with and had chosen to be kind instead of getting angry... by I winced at the thought of dad and how he might react if he came to know.

"Mom," I said, "please don't tell dad."

"I won't." she spoke, but removed her hand from my grasp. I watched her hand go to her right breast and rub over the areola. I noticed that her nipple was expressing tiny droplets of milk. It must have made her uncomfortable. I had suckled her left breast empty but not the other.

"Mom?" I spoke a little nervously, "May I?"

Her eyes fell on mine registering my request. They showed a shade of appreciation that I had asked her permission with respect, like she wanted. She removed her hand from her breast and beckoned me softly with her eyes. I lowered my mouth towards the beautiful breast and placed my mouth around her nipple. I stuck my tongue to the base of my mouth to create pressure for milk to flow out from her nipple. The familiar stream of sweetness flowed filling up my mouth. I swallowed and sucked again, repeating the motion over and over again. Mom placed her right hand on my head and tousled my hair affectionately, savouring the maternal warmth generated by feeding me her milk. I draped my right hand across her waist and rested it on her hips. I resisted the urge to move it up and rest it at the side of her breasts. I don't know how she discerned the unspoken desire for her left hand came to rest atop my hand and gently pulled it upwards stopping once it reached the soft skin at the side of her left breast. She let my hand rest there and kept her hand on it throughout the time I spent feeding on her right breast. Once the stream of milk ended I rested my head right beneath her breast and closed my drowsy eyes.

I hadn't felt any movement and hence was surprised to find myself alone in mom's bed when I woke up two hours later. Groggily I sat up on the bed looking around for mom. I stood up when she was nowhere to be seen and made my way downstairs. On the dining table, I found two bowls, one filled with rice and fish curry in the other.

A note beside the bowls read 'Going to see my gynaecologist... Will be back by evening' in mom's petite handwriting. That was all that was written, but I realized she must have wanted to consult the doctor about the lactation.

I grabbed a plate and filled it up with rice and curry. I took it to the sofa and sat down after switching on the TV. I ate while watching football.

Afterwards, when I went to my room and checked my phone there were ten missed calls from Anu. I called her back and lied that I didn't go to college as I was sick. It was lunch hour at college and I had to listen to her drone on for twenty minutes before the professor came to class and she had to hang up. I then lounged on my bed, undecided on how to spend the afternoon. My mind kept replaying the conversation I had with mom, specifically the part where she told me how I was as a baby. It made me curious. I rang mom's number.

"Ajju?" her sweet voice answered.

"Mom?" I spoke, "Are you still at the doctor's?"

"Yes... I just came out of the consultation room. Why did you call?"

"Oh... I was thinking of looking at our old photo albums... where do you keep them?"

"In the cabinet under the TV unit."

"Okay... but Mom, is everything okay... what did the doctor say?" I asked concerned for her health. I could hear the buzz of city traffic around her as she replied.

"She said not to worry... it's a side effect of the hormone treatment... she told me to buy a breast pump, for if it happens again... I am to see her again if I have any pain in my..." she left the sentence unfinished.

But my mind was stuck on two words, 'breast pump' and what it meant for me. I feared that I was going to lose my new privileges if she bought one.

"Are you... going to buy... the breast pump?" I asked, dreading the prospect. The line was quiet for a few seconds.

"Why?" she asked.

"If you buy it... does it mean... I won't get to do it again?" I asked, feeling my heart pounding in my chest. I had started loving the renewed closeness with mom and feared losing it. I could not imagine being denied the warmth of her bosom. I could hear her breath on the other side.

"If you don't want me to buy it, I won't." she said after a few seconds of painful suspense.

"Don't buy it."

"Okay" she agreed. She hung up a few seconds later when she boarded a bus.

With my hope intact, I proceeded to search for the old photo albums in the cabinet under the TV unit. I found a bunch of them. They smelled old and looked discoloured. I dusted them off and sat down on the sofa. I opened each of them and flipped through the photos. They took me back to my childhood.

I spent close to half an hour looking at old photos. I was halfway through the last of the albums when I came across a few pictures of me painting... on mom. In one, I held a paint brush to her arm painting a butterfly... a moustache on her face in another... stars on her feet in another. It stirred something in me and memories of those instances came rushing into my mind... memories which I didn't know existed buried in my mind. I could almost hear mom's giggles as I put the tip of the brush coated with cold water colours on her feet... I could almost see her flinching at the touch of the cold paint. I realized that I had never lost those memories... I had only lost my way to find them.

The main door opened and mom walked in, finding me engrossed in the photos. I smiled seeing the lovely face of my favourite person. She was wearing a pink saree and blouse. How she changed into it earlier without waking me up was a mystery. She discarded her purse on the coffee table and joined me on the sofa.

"Oh these!" she said and laughed when she saw what I was looking at, "you were around four I think... you had gone through a cute phase of painting these masterpieces on me... you were so good at drawing, always winning prizes at school competitions." She flipped back to see the other photos of me drawing on her.

"Why did you stop?" she asked.

"What? Drawing? I never stopped... I still draw... wait, I'll show you." I said and fished out my phone. I opened phone's gallery and swiped through the photographs. I showed her a few of the pictures I had drawn recently. Though only rarely, I still drew. I showed her the floral carpet that I'd designed for last year's Onam celebration at college. I showed her some graffiti I'd done for our college fest. Finally, I came to a photo of Anu's hand.

"Me and Anu got first prize for this in the hand painting competition." I'd painted a peacock on Anu's hand.

"Is this her hand?" Mom asked.

"Yes"

"It's good." I'm not sure if I was just imagining things but the way mom spoke, I sensed a faint dash of jealousy in her tone... as if slightly miffed at Anu replacing her as the canvas for my art.

"Did you have lunch?" she asked and then stood.

"Yes." I replied. She walked away and climbed the stairs to her room.

"I'm going to change clothes." She said as she went.

I was left with a distinct impression of mom having not liked the idea of me painting on Anu's hand. It seemed like she thought I'd shared something special just between the two of us, with a third person. I felt like I had to make amends. I ran up the stairs and went into my room. I opened my table's drawer and pulled out the pouch containing my art supplies. I made my way out and stood outside mom's closed door.

"Mom?" I called.

"Can I come in?" I asked when there was no reply. I had promised her that I would respect her privacy. So I stood outside waiting for permission. It never came verbally... but I heard the latch being loosened and saw the door open slightly. I held the pouch behind me and entered her room. I found mom in the exact position I had walked into in the morning... undressing in front of the almirah mirror. The saree lay discarded on the table beside her.

"Are you upset mom?" I asked tentatively. She didn't reply, but proceeded to undo the hooks at the front of her pink blouse. She had on a white underskirt below.

"It was just for a competition mom... It was nothing special." I offered. She remained quiet and continued to undo the hooks slowly, one by one.

"It wasn't like when I used to paint on you... those times were special... I still remember your giggles as I put the tip of the brush coated with cold water colours on your feet... and your flinching at the touch of the cold paint on your skin." I added. That brought about a change in her expression. It softened. The coldness thawed as warm memories filled her.

"You remember?" I heard her voice.

"I do... I do mom... one look at those photos and it all came rushing back to me... I was so happy then, painting on you... I'm always happy when you are around." I said. All hooks came undone and she took off the blouse, revealing a red bra. It caught my breath... the same bra that I had in my hands while I had been under mom's bed the other day. She turned to face me. My words had brought the motherly smile back on her face.

I brought the pouch I was holding to the front and asked, "Will you let me paint on you?"

Five minutes later, she sat on a chair... still wearing the red bra and white underskirt... her right arm draped on the armrest. I sat on a stool on her right side, holding a palette in my left hand and a brush in my right. The clock on the wall showed 2.45 PM. I started painting on her arm, starting with a school of small silver colour fish on her arm. Mom paid close attention to the movements of the brush, flinching sometimes at the delicate touch of the brush.

As I moved up painting more fish mom asked, "They look like they are swimming up my arm." We both laughed at her comment. I filled the skin around the silver fish with blue... like ripples of water created by the swimming fish. Mom lifted her free left hand to her shoulder and scratched gently. Her bra clad breasts shifted underneath with the movement of her arm. Her cleavage deepened as the arm pushed her left breast.

"Don't move... I'm working here." I said.

"I can't even scratch an itch?" she protested.

"No... keep your arm still." I said and continued painting.

"You painted smaller pictures back then." She spoke after some time. I had almost finished painting till the top of her arm.

"I've grown... so have my drawings." I offered with a chuckle. My right arm was uncomfortable, not having anything to lean on.

"There's more?" she asked when I moved past the curve of the shoulder towards the clavicle.

"Yes... do you want me to stop?"

"What exactly are you painting?" she asked.

"I'm not telling you now... but you'll see if you let me finish." I said. I had a bigger vision for this art.

"You are going to get paint on my bra." She complained.

The moment had come. The request that I'd been putting off till now had to be made. It wasn't like it hadn't happened before... but it was the first time that I had to ask.

"Could you take it off?" I went ahead and asked. She considered the request for a while.

"Are you going to paint on my breasts?" She asked. Her tone conveyed that she already knew the answer was yes.

She was hesitant. It was one thing to let me suckle at her breasts and a whole another thing to let my hands run over them while painting on them.

"If you'll allow me... Yes." I said nervously. I could see her mulling the ramifications of letting me push boundaries like this.

"Please... Mom, you promised you'd keep an open heart... I want to do this... and I'm asking your permission... please." I added.

Slowly she stood up. She started to bring her arms to the back.

"Wait," I spoke, "It'll ruin the already painted portion on your arm if it slides down."

"Let me." I requested.

Mom had her back to me. I placed the palette and the brush down and stood up behind her. I brought my hands to the middle of her back where the hooks lay holding the fabric firmly to her body. I pinched the two wing bands with the fingers of my two hands and pulled them closer. The hooks slipped out of the eyelets. I held the free wing bands firmly to prevent them from snapping out and leading to the straps sliding over the painted portion.

"Hold the left side to your breast." I said. Mom lifted her left hand to her breast and held the cups of the bra firmly. I let go of the left wing band and slowly pulled the right strap off her arm without it touching the paint. It took some time to carefully remove her bra. Once it was done, I placed it on the chair. Mom turned around to face me, her bare breasts right in front of me. My cock tingled and lurched in my shorts. Thankfully, the tent at the front of my shorts weren't too obvious.

"It will be easier for me if you lie down... I'll spread some newspaper sheets on the bed." I managed to say. I took the lack of protest as consent and went about spreading newspaper sheets to shield the bedsheet from any accidental spilling of paint.

"Come mom." I called her. She climbed on the bed and lay on the newspapers.

"Here." I said picking up a pillow and placing it under her head. I then picked up my tools and joined mom on the bed. I scooted close to her right side and resumed painting. I travelled down from her clavicle covering the skin with thick wide strokes of blue. When my arms cramped, I rested them gently in the valley between mom's gorgeous breasts. The underside of my forearm came in contact with mom's soft skin and I got goosebumps. Mom had her eyes closed.

As my painting arm travelled down her shoulders and started climbing the upslope of her breasts, the brush moved in careful delicate strokes creating an intricate pattern. The brush travelled up and around each of her breasts completing the pattern. Many a time, the bottom of my palm brushed lightly across mom's nipple eliciting a shiver in her body. I could swear her nipples looked longer than when I started painting. I filled the empty spaces in the pattern with pink being careful not to spread into the borders. I left her areola untouched by paint and filled the outer border of the pink pattern with a shapely circle in green. The two green border circles intersected at her cleavage. My palm grazed all around her breasts as I painted and the softness of her breasts was incredible... they felt like clouds. I then proceeded to paint her left hand in a mirror image of the right. I took my time to ensure symmetry.

When her left arm too was done, I returned to her torso filling light blue on the bare skin down to her navel. I made quick work of it with wide long strokes of the brush. When that too was completed, I moved on to the final touch. I mixed dark green on my palette and made two elegant strokes, both starting at her navel and diverging to reach the underside of her breasts.

I straightened my back and looked down admiring my work displayed on mom's naked torso. I climbed down from the bed and placed my tools on the chair. I resumed running my eyes over mom's body... from her navel and upwards... over her breasts and shoulders and down round her arms. Mom still had her eyes closed.

"Mom?" I called. She opened her eyes slowly and looked down on her coloured torso, studying the picture.

"Do you see it?" I asked.

"What? I don't get it." Her face was perplexed.

"Come I'll show you." I said and held out my hand. She took it and lifted herself up. I supported her as she swung her legs down and stood.

"come." I said again as I led her towards the mirror. When we reached in front of the mirror, I stood behind her and watched her expression change as she realized drawn what I had drawn. I enjoyed watching confusion change into appreciation in her eyes.

"It's beautiful." She whispered.

The art on her body didn't need any explanation, but being the artist I believed I was entitled to do it... even if it was merely to bask in its beauty. I moved closer behind her and hovered my hand close above her arm.

"The silver fish are swimming up toward this colourful thing they see," I spoke moving my hovering hand over her arm, coming up and around her shoulder and then hovering over her bosom.

"Two lotus flowers floating on blue water." I hovered my hand around her round breasts emphasising the art.

"Two beautiful pink flowers with an infinite number of petals spiralling inwards... ending where the nectar lies." I explained hovering my index finger over mom's pink nipple, almost touching it.

"The source of the flowers' life being here." I said hovering my fingers over the two elegant green brush strokes signifying the stem of the flowers.

"Do you like it?" I asked, once I had finished my exposition.

"It's beautiful." She spoke, captivated by the image on her body.

"It's beautiful Ajju," She said turning around to face me, "Truly."

"Only compliments...? Doesn't the artist deserve any special reward?" I asked.

"He does." She said and in a split second closed the gap between us and lifted up on tiptoes plating her lips on mine. My lips parted catching hers and they locked tightly for a brief few seconds.

It was not a lustful kiss. It was a kiss of love... of adoration. It was a manifestation of the promise she had made me today... that she'll be with me and help me get through my muddled emotions.

It was brief... yet it was infinite. It was a mother kissing her son... and yet also a woman kissing a man.

She broke the kiss and stepped back. I stood in a daze, having received a reward more special than what I had in mind. I had wanted to take a picture of the art on her.

The sound of vehicle horn from the road outside jolted mom into reality and mom looked up at the clock. It showed 4.30 PM.

"Dad will be here soon... I have to wash up and change." She said. Her face showed obvious reluctance. It was clear that she wanted it to remain on her body for a while longer... but it couldn't be helped. I too was averse to watching my work being washed off. However, it had to be done.

"Can I take a picture?" I asked, "A souvenir to remember this moment... please." I pleaded.

The sadness at having to watch such a painstakingly made masterpiece must have been evident on my face for she didn't protest.

"Make sure my face isn't in it." Was her only condition. I made her stand near the window, through which slivers of the evening sunrays had come in. I pulled out my phone and opened the camera app. I focussed the camera on mom's breasts, navel and arms and clicked a few pictures.

While I checked how the pictures had come out, I saw mom walk into the bathroom out of the corner of my eyes. The pictures had come out well and had captured the beauty of the art exquisitely. The sound of a running tap distracted me from the phone screen. I followed its source and saw the bathroom door open. The white underskirt lay outside the door.

I went closer and looked in. I saw mom standing in front of the bathroom wash basin in just a red panty. splashing water on her breasts and rubbing the paint off them. The neat brush strokes on her body got warped as water mixed with paint and the creamy white of her skin started becoming visible. Blue and pink and green and silver splashed down in the washbasin and spiralled down the drain.