Unspoken Pleasure by Erotica

Mom's Touch But Don't Look Policy:>Ep8

The next morning, we woke up for our morning run. The days were getting hotter, and more people were out on the streets with us. The world was slowly reawakening.

We'd gotten up to five miles a day and I was starting to feel really good. It was warm enough, too, where I was able to run without a shirt. I tried to convince Mom to go with just a sports bra, but she told me she didn't feel appropriate being exposed like that.

We were at our usual pace as we turned the corner down a quiet, tree-lined street. We were doing so well, I was starting to think about pushing it, maybe up to 7 miles. Mom usually trailed me when we ran, but as we turned, she caught up to my side.

She looked down at my bare chest. For a moment, I saw her eyes go wide. Then she fell back.

"Mom?" I turned around, thinking she'd just lost her pace. Instead, I found her sprawled in the middle of the street. "Mom!"

I raced back and knelt next to her. Mom was lying on the ground. She had a light scratch on her cheek. She looked at me, her blue eyes small and scared.

"I tripped," Mom said, "I'm OK." But her body belied her calm demeanor -- lying in the fetal position on the ground.

"Can you stand?" I asked.

"Definitely," Mom said. She started to get up, but when she put weight on her left leg, she tumbled back over again.

I rushed to be next to her.

"Knee?" I asked, worried. If her knee was out, we were calling an ambulance.

"Ankle," Mom said. Ok, maybe that wasn't so bad.

Mom stand. She was OK on her right leg, but

She took a step, grimaced,

calling someone," I

Mom said,

the street. We were three miles from home. There

mom into my arms. I held her up, like a baby, and started to walk us back home. Mom wasn't tiny, but she was light. I hadn't done all that upper body work planning to one day carry a woman three miles, but it seemed like a worthy reward in

street; my

said. She was clearly embarrassed by what had happened. "I guess I

said, "I'm just glad I can be

Mom said, remembering her old nickname for

have it any other way," I

running is very different than three miles walking. Especially while carrying someone. We had to break a couple of times so I could rest. It had taken us less than an hour to get out but coming back to the house took

front lawn. We lay on the grass, staring up at the blue sky. The day was warm. The air smelled like honeysuckle. The

not," I

hand, squeezing

up and I carried Mom inside the house, up to her bedroom. Even as an adult, it felt strange being in Mom's space. Like I'd crossed an invisible barrier into my parents' private world. The room was well appointed with dark

was lying back, head propped up by the pillows. She was still in her running outfit: tight black yoga pants and a green

and ice, mostly, while checking for swelling. I knew that if Mom couldn't put weight on the ankle, she'd be going to the doctor, but I was hoping

OK, I went and took a shower. Then I made some breakfast and brought it up for

you want to take a shower, too?" I asked, hoping for

the problem with hiding our relationship under a blanket, it