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

She took a step, grimaced, then

someone,"

said,

were three miles from home. There

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

the street; my

Mom said. She was clearly embarrassed by what had happened.

just glad I can

nickname for me.

it any other

miles walking. Especially while carrying someone. We had to break a couple of times so I could rest. It had taken

at the blue sky. The day

not," I

reached over and grabbed my hand, squeezing it tight. "Yes, but

Where everyone could. But instead, she beamed at me. Eventually, we were able to get 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

ice. When I came back, Mom was lying back, head propped up by the pillows. She was still in her running outfit: tight black yoga pants and a green tank top. Her ponytail was askew, and her blonde hair stuck out

and put together a little plan. Rest and ice, mostly, while checking for swelling. I knew that if Mom couldn't put weight on the ankle, she'd be going

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

too?" I

I knew that I'd gone too far. Again, that was the problem with hiding our relationship under a blanket, it was impossible to truly