Nora in the Sun Pt. 01

Mom and I looked toward each other at the same time.

Some hands went down my waist.

A couple hands went over her soft, ample chest and squeezed it.

I felt my heart leap into my chest as I looked into my mom's dark, dark eyes. Something weird was happening. She opened her mouth to say something but then closed it again. She looked to the side, her cheeks flushing.

"Alright," said the guy searching me. "Unfortunately, since we haven't found anything, you're going to be temporarily detained and thoroughly searched. So we're going to have to go the next step."

Mom snapped up straight. "I'm sorry? Detained? The next step?"

"Yeah. Strip search. You'll have to remove all your clothes. Sorry about that, but if you refuse, we'll have to call the marshalls and you'll be arrested." He gave a nod as if he did this kind of stuff every day. "So let's get it over with."

I felt hot blood rising in my face as I thought of... mom... removing her clothes. I shook myself. What the hell was this guy's problem? Wasn't this illegal?

I stepped back from the table and pulled my shoulders back, wanting to bust his head open. Fight instinct rose along with a weird, sick feeling. I had a sudden mental vision of my mother being forced to remove her clothes, piece by piece. The sick feeling multiplied. Her shirt, completely uncovering the purple lace of her bra, would come off. Her neck, the top of her milky white chest would be bare. Her leggings would have to be removed. The fabric would peel from her legs, revealing skin along her upper thighs I realized I had never seen.

An uncontrollable anger, and something else very, very powerful moved into my lower belly... and lower. I had to stop it. My vision was a weird blend of red and pink. I felt my voice rising by itself, I felt my shoulders tensing and my stance widening. "No, I don't think so," my voice nearly turned to a violent shout, "You're not going to do this, you fucking-"

"Brett!" My mom's urgent voice cut through everything.

My vision immediately cleared. She stared at me with the same look that she used to give when I was about to make an idiot of myself. It was a look of an absolute and firm barrier - I would listen, and I would correct my behavior, immediately. There was no other option - I would comply. I tried to swallow my pride and protective rage and the weird, sick feeling that came with the thought of her being forced to remove her clothes.

"Alright," she said, her face suddenly cool, collected, dignified. "What now?"

The agent next to her rattled off a practiced list. "Shirt, pants, underwear." The next sentence seemed to explode in my skull. "It's all got to come off." The agent turned to glare at me while I swallowed the dirty feelings in my stomach, "You're going to keep next to the table while you undress. Don't make any sudden moves. Hurry up."

My brain immediately envisioned what was to come. It made violent strides without my consent. Her tank top would come off. Her chest in all its paleness would emerge. Her leggings would disappear. Her legs would be pale, white, strong, firm. She'd be wearing something underneath. Thin, little panties in a mysterious color that covered her most private space. But the agents wouldn't let it stop there. They'd ask her to remove them. I would see a place on her that I hadn't been since I was born.

Her voice came through my mental fog again. "We don't get separate changing areas? It's a little awkward for us to... do this right here. In front of each other."

"We don't have the time, lady." The agent working with her gave her answer tersely. "You're related, aren't you? It's fine."

Mom and I locked eyes again. She was like a doe, a pale creature stopped helplessly. She didn't even have words to respond.

"It's fine," I said quietly, trying to make it less difficult and awkward. "It's fine, mom. We're family." It wasn't fine. It wasn't any less awkward. It felt wrong. I felt my jaw aching as I looked at her and felt a tremendous tension from within my chest. I felt sick. I felt like... I wanted to see my mother take off everything. To bare herself in front of me.

"...Alright." She looked away from me. Her hands went down to the bottom of her shirt. She pulled up, lightly. Her hands went up halfway and stopped, her pale midriff exposed in the bright lights of the airport search area. Her belly button was an innie. A cute, little hole that colored her lovely white center like an artfully placed inkwell. "...Brett," she looked at me, noticing my stare. "You've got to do this too. Or we'll never get to Belize." She looked back down, hesitating.

I quickly pulled up my shirt. "Let's get this over with," I said, trying to pull my eyes away.

Eventually, mom looked off to the side and finished pulling up her shirt. Mine was already on the table. I reached down to undo my pants, and tried to focus... but I couldn't help it. My eyes went up, and I saw her. I looked. My mother's chest was bound by a laced purple bra, one of those trendy brands you'd get at the mall. The lace along its edges sparkled, adding a magic quality to her already impossibly white chest. Her breasts looked so... heavy.

Her thumbs hooked into the waistband of her leggings. They pulled to the sides, and slowly went down. I saw a hint of a mellow green fabric along her pelvis. Panties. Mom's panties.

It felt so wrong.

I looked down hurriedly, but felt my gaze pulled upwards. Her thumbs went down. Her legs were the color of milk. The soft flesh gave way, just slightly, pushing outward, free of the form constraints of her spandex. Her hands went farther down, she leaned forward to bring her leggings past her knees. Her full thighs were bare. Hairless. Polished ivory. Between her thighs, the deadly thin green piece of nothing hid something else beneath them. Like a leaf, hiding Eve in the garden. Hiding something even softer, and more secret.

A place I had once been.

I looked up at her face.

She was watching me.

My jaw dropped and I looked down. My cheeks were so hot, burning up. My mind raced furiously.

What the fuck, Brett?

You're a filthy perv, Brett. How could you, Brett? What the hell was going on, Brett?

A cacophony of accusing voices swirled in my head. I cleared my throat and tried to focus on undoing my pants. The zipper dropped. With a quick movement, my legs were free. The pants fell, and I felt the humid air in the airport cooling my groin, which was undoubtedly now a high enough temperature to be a national security risk. My dick was free of the constraints of pants, but all I could feel was shame... and something hotter and more urgent.

I looked up and saw her looking at me still.

She wasn't looking in my eyes. She was looking me up and down, briefly, until our eyes met again. This time, her eyes darted off to the side. Her face was very red.

"Everything's got to go," said the female agent watching my mom. "Hurry up."

Mom straightened up. Her covered breasts moved upward. Her bra would be the next to go. I felt something moving below my waist. I could feel the blood rushing into my cock. I was hardening.

This was going to be a very difficult vacation.

Mom lifted her hands up along her back. This time, I couldn't pull my gaze away. Nothing could stop it. Her eyes flicked up to mine. For a long, and agonizing moment, she actually stared into me. I wanted to look away. I wanted to pretend this was just an awkward moment. But I felt my hardness increasing, the host of feelings between my legs flaring upward, growing violent as her stare refused to break, an absolute miracle that she didn't see my shaft stiffening .

"It's fine," she said slowly, unblinking, her voice shaking. "We're family."

Her hands went behind her. Her chest pushed out. The purple lace sparkled in the bright airport lights. Her hands stopped, undoubtedly taking hold of the clasps. Her shoulders gave the slightest movement as I heart the faint tick of something undoing. It was a move I had seen soft, feminine arms make in the dorms as girls would unclasp their bras... before the fabric would fall and the fullness of a girl's perky tits would greet me, the way their nipples -- pink, brown, dark, pointed, soft and wide, would seal themselves into my memory.

My mind screamed as I saw the plastic clips drop behind her. I wanted to know. I wanted to see. I wanted to hide before my erection became visible. I could already feel my underwear moving upward. I wanted to crawl under the table.

But more than anything I wanted her bra to fall. I wanted to know her color, her shape.

Some say you can predict the color of a girl's nipples by the color of her lips. Mom's would be the color of coral, a pale pink, almost like chalk, the same color and tone of her full, pale lips in the morning when she would make breakfast.

Her bra edged downward. But my mother's hands held it up. She was still watching me as I stared.

"Come on," the TSA agent next to me prodded my arm.

I had to take off my boxer briefs. I felt them shifting. I hunched over, my thumbs hooking into them the way my mother's had hooked into her leggings. I started to pull them down. Her bra fell another inch. A strap came off the side of her left arm. Then her right. Her shoulders, perfectly pale, were completely bare, the same perfect white of a mountainside freshly covered in snow. She looked at me. I looked at her. Something was different about her eyes. About her face, her gaze. Her lips were barely open as she looked down... below my chest... down... to my midriff...

...down.

My underwear dipped lower, baring the skin just above my crotch. I could tell that she could see below my hips. Her bra fell even more, and now inches and inches of her breasts were visible... Her nipples were almost free. And the bra dropped lower... down... down...

...a soft circle of pink. The color of coral.

We heard some footsteps off to the side. "Hey, big mistake," the droning TSA agent barged into the area. Mom's hands snapped up to her chest, sealing her breasts away beneath the bra and her pale white hands. She had a look of surprise and shock, completely unprepared for anyone else to be walking in. The agent droned a non-apology. "The scanner just had a dust bunny on one of the optics. These guys are good. Have a good flight." He turned around and left without elaborating further.

Mom's arms were over her chest as she crouched down. Her face was flushed. Her breathing was heavy. "You people," she gasped, visibly furious. "I ought to sue all of you." Her hands darted behind her and expertly hooked her bra back on. She moved like lightning. Her tank went over her chest, closing the doors to the soft mystery of flesh. Her leggings went up, the pale, creamy legs disappeared, shuttered away. She stood up straight, huffing, and walked out.

I was completely stunned. And still in my underwear. The TSA agent assigned to me yawned and handed back my pants.

"Hurry up man," he said, dryly, pointing at my crotch. "I don't want to see that."