Mid-Valley League Swim Finals

"Listen up, everybody. This is a delicate subject I only talk about with graduating seniors. You need all your options for peak performance at Thursday's Mid-Valley League swim finals." Coach Richards hesitated before continuing. "Olympic swimmers shave their body hair to cut drag in the water. If you want to achieve your personal best times for your last competition at Poly High, you should consider it. Do your legs and torso. Leave the hair on your arms; it helps pull you through the water. If you make it to the Olympics, you'll shave your head, too, but not now. I recommend shaving tonight and using tomorrow's light workout to adjust to how it feels. Shave again Thursday morning before our team breakfast. I want to be clear this is completely voluntary. Good luck."

We'd finished our last full workout. After the speech, I showered, dressed, and headed to my car for the drive home. Carol, the pool manager, singled me out before I left. "You just got the talk, didn't you - - ah, - - Eric, isn't it?"

I stopped at the counter and slowly glanced both ways. "Yeah, I'm Eric. If you mean the shaving thing, then, yep, we got the talk. You've seen this before?"

"A few times. I finished my teaching degree three years ago and took this job part-time for stress relief, waiting for a teaching position. I realized I'd be an outstanding swim coach and a terrible high school teacher. I like being here when Coach Richards gives the talk. Watching a group of graduating varsity seniors reduced to frightened children is fun. They all think nothing of making their girlfriends shave their legs and armpits, but you'd think the world would end if it came to doing it themselves. I sensed you'd be okay with it. What do you think?"

I blushed before I could speak. "It's mixed. I like how different my face feels after I shave. Discovering how my legs and body might feel different is intriguing. It's a big job, though, and I sometimes nick my face. We'll see."

"Keep me posted." Carol waved bye.

My chaotic thoughts were distracting. I registered for the draft four months ago, but I'm a late bloomer and didn't need to shave daily. I wanted to do my best in the swim meet, but shaving my body was a big deal. If my dad were alive, he'd laugh it off and tell me to forget it. "Real men only shave their faces," he'd say. But two summers ago, he didn't survive a massive heart attack.

I made the U-turn in front of our house, a typical post-war bungalow my father bought a few years after the war. I set the parking brake and decided to ask Mom how to shave my legs and body. She's the emergency room nursing supervisor on the graveyard shift at Hollywood Hospital and is home most mornings by nine. She sleeps during the day and is usually awake before I'm home from swim workouts. We have the evening together for dinner, TV, or occasionally a play or musical at the Music Center downtown. Her shift starts at midnight.

I bounded up the walkway and opened the front door. Mom was watching TV in the living room.

"Hi, Eric," she called out when I opened the front door.

"Hi, Mom. Something's come up with swimming, and I don't know who else to ask."

"I'll do my best to help, Honey. Turn off the TV." She patted the empty couch next to her. "Tell me about it."

"Coach Richards told the seniors we'd get faster swim times if we shaved our legs and bodies. It's voluntary, but I'd like to try for my personal best at the swim finals. I can barely shave my face without a nick, and the rest of my body is much bigger. Do you have any pointers?"

"Oh, Honey. I've shaved hundreds of patients at the hospital and my legs thousands of times. Of course, I'll help. Let's do it right now. We can get this out of the way, have dinner, and relax. Put a swimsuit on so I can see how much to shave. We'll work in the bathroom; cleaning is easier."

"That's great, Mom. Thanks."

I shouldn't have agreed so quickly. Part of the swim team's fun was wearing nylon Speedos. At meets, I enjoyed the attention of female spectators watching us parade around practically nude. Our sheer swimsuits left almost nothing to the imagination.

My old Speedo suits at home were degraded from constant soaking in the pool's chlorine. They're stretched and saggy. I wasn't sure how well I'd stay put in the suit while Mom shaved me, but the thought ignited the exhibitionistic urge I knew well.

I closed my bedroom door and stripped off. Standing naked in front of my dresser, I thought of other times I stood before Mom's dresser when she was at work. I opened the drawer to carefully look at her things, especially her panties. Her underclothes were mysterious and exciting. There was something 'nasty' and forbidden about being naked in my mother's bedroom, holding a pair of her silken panties and pulling them around my crotch. I'd walk through our house to the back door and sometimes into the backyard.

Wearing Speedos felt like wearing my mother's panties, and I tingled with excitement when I opened my top drawer to choose an old swimsuit which I'd removed the modesty panel. I usually tuck my cock down, the taut fabric keeping me in place. This pair didn't have the restraining tightness. I hoped for the best, and everything felt under control.

My bedroom door is in the corner of the room and opens on one end of a short hallway. Mom's bedroom is at the other end of the hall, with the bathroom in between. I pulled my door open and saw Mom reaching for the bathroom doorknob.

"That was quick, Eric." Mom didn't allow a way out. "Let's get to work."

She wore a tan culotte and a white T-shirt. Her shoulder-length chestnut hair tumbled unrestrained. Like a dreamy mix of Ava Gardner and Natalie Wood, her beauty took me aback. She was only two inches shorter than my 6'1" height. I had significant second thoughts concerning this 'beauty treatment' for the swim meet.

She stepped into the small and functional bathroom, typical of this type of bungalow. The toilet was directly opposite the door. Along the right wall was a linen closet and a bathtub with a shower. A full-length counter on the left wall held double sinks with a full-length wall-mounted mirror above. There were five globe lights above the mirror.

She grabbed her safety razor from the shower and sat on the closed toilet seat lid to load a new blade. "Stand in front of me; I need a proper assessment." She used her emergency room voice. "You have some hair on your chest and sprouting from your waist. Hold your arms out. Yes, some underarm hair should come off, and quite a bit of hair on your legs must go. Face me; I'll start on your chest, stomach, and under your arms. Then turn around so I can get the back of your legs. A final turn, and we'll finish with the front."

It sounded straightforward. Mom soaked the washcloth in warm water and rubbed it over my chest and armpits. It felt great.

"Okay, Honey. Clasp your fingers together, then rest them on your head to get your arms out of the way."

I complied. Turning my head toward the mirror, I didn't watch directly but through the reflection. She sat straight and with an arched back. From my view, I saw her right side, emphasizing her prominent breasts, and she wasn't wearing a bra.

Nudity wasn't a big deal in our house. My parents slept nude and didn't bother wearing anything to go to the bathroom. I remember finding them in the kitchen once, after I was supposed to be asleep, getting a late-night snack to accompany watching Johnny Carson. They were naked; it was a surprise, but so what? We'd all go skinny dipping on the lake in the summer. We became more private when I hit puberty, and the casual nudity decreased and stopped.

Mom sprayed shaving cream on her hand and spread a thin layer on my chest and under my arms. She carefully worked under my left, then right arm, taking a stroke or two and cleaning it under the faucet. Her gaze focused on her work.

Next, she carefully removed the hair around my nipples. I noticed a change in the contour of her breasts. As she swiped the razor and cleaned me with the washcloth, her nipples poked against her shirt. She paused to squeeze the washcloth and splashed water onto her shirt. The white cloth stuck to her skin, becoming translucent. I could see the outline of her dark, puckering areolas and hardened nipples.

I hadn't seen breasts this close as an adult. It was exciting, but so far, my cock remained tucked into the bottom of my swimsuit. When Mom wetted my stomach and applied the shaving cream, I hardened. She pulled the razor from the waistband, with the grain of my hair, five or six strokes to clean that area. Then she gently tugged the waistband lower and completely cleared the exposed hair.

"Okay, Eric. Your chest's finished. Turn around so I can do the back of your legs."

Not a moment too soon. "How do you want me to stand?"

"Well, Honey. Put your feet further apart and turn a little to your right. Bend at your waist to stick your butt out so I can shave between your legs, and lean on the counter with your straight arms."

Following her instructions, I bent forward, and the fabric on the front of my swimsuit loosened. My hardening cock expanded, and the feeling of the underside and head of my cock sliding against the fabric induced a full erection.

Mom soaked the washcloth again and pulled the elastic leg bands of my swimsuit into the crack of my ass. Starting with my left leg, she pushed the wet, warm cloth directly onto the uppermost part of my inner thigh. She dragged it around my leg and to my ankle, filled her hand with shaving cream, and coated the moistened area. Razor in hand, she shaved in vertical strokes around my leg, then past my knee to my ankle. She did the same to my right leg.

Being handled like this felt so good. It wasn't explicitly sexual but had an erotic charge. I glanced to my right and saw my mom's firm breasts tantalizingly on display. She was sloppier, and more water splashed on her shirt.

I love my mom and enjoy being around her, but I'd never imagined an explicitly sexual fantasy with her. I was sure fondling or wearing her panties was the feel of the silk and the naughtiness of wearing a woman's clothes, not about getting into her pants. That's what I kept telling myself as she continued on the back of my legs, and my cock pushed against the waistband of my Speedos.

I couldn't hide my aroused state, but my exhibitionist side reasoned I might escape by pretending it wasn't happening. It's the same thing I thought when playing in the backyard nude. I could claim I didn't know anyone was home, and it was purely accidental.

Mom finished the final stroke, soaking the washcloth to rinse my leg. In the mirror, I could see my fully erect cock, and with the modesty panel gone, all the details of the veins on the underside of my cock were visible. To top it off, a spreading spot of pre-cum ooze darkened the fabric at the tip of my cock.

"Okay, Eric, I'm done with the back. Turn around so I can finish the front. Keep your hands out of the way like before." Mom quietly said as I stood straight, afraid my life would end.

I slowly turned around, placed my hands on my head, and glanced to the left in the mirror. I braced for something to happen. She noticed my erection, holding her gaze on it for a few seconds before looking at my legs. "Spread your legs again so I can get in between to shave."

She reached between my legs, moved my balls with the back of her left hand, and moistened the front and inside of my legs. She pressed my balls aside again to smear shaving cream over my legs. Finally, she pushed my balls out of the way for the razor, dragging it across my skin to complete the shave.

I almost came. The first time Mom pressed her hand against my balls, hot blood flushed through my neck and face from the excitement. My elevated heartbeat pumped my cock with each beat. The second time she pressed my balls, I felt short of breath and weak in my knees. I thought I'd have to sit to recover, but I saw Mom's blotchy red flushed chest and neck.

My swelling pride at exciting my mother emboldened me. I wanted to show her how hard I could get. Instead of feeling weakened when she pressed my balls the third time, I flattened my stomach, clenched my ass, and tried to make myself as hard as possible. My cock pushed the fabric of my suit out from my waist. Mom's breathing increased, but she kept on with her shaving. Done with the top of my thighs, she moved her hand away and finished my leg.

After a final clean-up with the washcloth, she stood and rubbed her hand over my chest. Taking my hands from on top of my head, she wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug, my cock pressed into her stomach. "You'll be the smoothest and fastest young man in the pool."

She broke the hug, looked slowly over my body, and turned me around toward the bathroom door. With a soft pat on my ass, she said, "Let's get ready and go to dinner before I go to work."

My head spun as I closed my bedroom door. I removed my swimsuit in one swoop and fell back onto my bed. Visions of Mom's breasts filled my head, and I could still feel her hands rubbing shaving cream on my legs. I reached for my unconstrained cock and erupted in a half dozen spurts after barely squeezing its base. Cum shot over the top of my head. My upper body and much of the bedspread had a sticky fluid coating.

I drifted off momentarily but was jolted back by a knock on the door. 'Oh, god,' I thought, 'Please don't come in and see me like this!'

"Honey, are you ready yet?" Mom asked through the closed door. "Let's get going. I'm hungry."

"Just a minute." I weakly sat, got the T-shirt I'd thrown to the floor before the shaving session, and wiped myself as clean as possible. When I pulled up my pants, I noticed the delightful feeling of the fabric against my completely denuded skin. It felt great, exciting. Every step created a new rush of sensation around my legs and recreated the vivid image of Mom shaving my legs. I felt a bit guilty, feeling so good. I shook my head to focus on my shoes.

In the front room, Mom waited on the loveseat. She'd changed into jeans and a light blue button-up blouse. "What took so long, Honey?"

It was getting unbearably warm, and I fumbled for something to say. "I was concentrating on the feeling of my pants against my legs and lost track of time."

I held the front door open for her, but she stopped and looked quizzically at the side of my face. "There's something in your hair."

She reached and rubbed off what I realized was a glob of cum I missed. She ran her fingers over it and held them to her face to look. "What is - - -." She stopped mid-question, smiled, and looked into my eyes. "Oh, I'm sure it's nothing." She held her fingers under her nose.

I turned beet red. Mom turned to walk out the door. Following her, I noticed she wiped her hand on her right butt cheek, circling it a couple of times while walking around the front of the car to the driver's side. She smiled with a lost-in-thought look.

I was silently embarrassed on the drive to our local Italian restaurant. I would have gladly remained silent for the rest of my life. We sat facing each other across the red and white checkered table. Mom calmly asked, "Tell me more about how your freshly shaven skin feels against your jeans."

Involuntarily, I rubbed my hands over my thighs. "The denim feels so smooth my skin feels like it's hit with hundreds of electric sparks. The cloth glides over my skin like it's oiled. The closest I can think of is when I had massages during physical therapy after they took the cast off my broken leg."

"You'll get used to it, but if you alternate a couple weeks shaving with a couple weeks growing out, you get that new shaved feeling again." And we were back to normal, sharing tips and new experiences. We enjoyed our antipasto and lasagne dinners, and she had me drive home.

Alone later, after Mom left for work, a swirling jumble of images and feelings filled my head. I couldn't sleep. Mom stroked the shaving cream on my legs and pulled the razor across my skin. Her casually pushing my balls aside, oblivious to my aroused condition and her excitement. I knew my reaction was terrible, but my guilty thoughts didn't keep my cock from hardening. Fantasies of Mom pulling off my suit and rubbing my engorged cock brought relief, another orgasm, and sleep.

I overslept and threw on sweats and a T-shirt to get to the pool on time. The light workout Wednesday morning created more unusual sensations. Feeling the water flow over my body in a new way, I paid more attention to proper form. I felt every body part more cleanly and each motion more distinctly.

Most seniors had shaved, and we all downplayed the unexpected feeling of the water against our skin. My teammates didn't have understanding parents to help with shaving, and many had razor nicks. They all had ragged, uneven tufts of hair popping out randomly. I was grateful for Mom's expert touch, and the brief thought of Mom's well-done job produced vivid memories.

On my way out, Carol intercepted me for an update. "Hey, Eric, it looks like a few casualties among the brave. Your legs look especially smooth and nick-free; how'd you do that?"

I blushed again, wondering if I could tell Carol the truth. I had to trust someone. "My legs are smooth because of my mom. She's a nurse."

She sensed my confession and touched my arm. "It must have felt tremendous."

"It did." I looked both directions to ensure no one was near, but still whispering, "It was sensual and exciting too. I felt guilty."

"She must care deeply for you." She looked conspiratorial. "Sometimes my girlfriend shaves my legs while we're in the shower, nude. Were you?"

"Was I nude, you mean? With my mom shaving me?"

"Yeah. The way you described it is so sexy. It sounded like you two are completely comfortable with each other, intimate like Michelle and me. Just curious, is all."

I had responded erotically to Mom's touch, and Carol's disclosures caused a stirring in my loose-fitting sweats. "No. I wasn't nude. I wore an old pair of Speedos. It was intimate and exciting. I couldn't hide my reaction. I expected Mom to end it when she saw, but she continued as if nothing happened."

"Eric, we don't choose who we love or excite. You must have some complicated feelings. You've got to focus on the swim meet tomorrow, but we could talk afterward. If you want."

"Okay. After the finals." I dashed to the parking lot behind my bouncing cock.

On the drive home, my jostling hard-on didn't feel the same as the shaved skin of my thighs. My legs were all tingly, and I could feel all the bumps in the road. My cock felt the same as always. The difference must be the shave, and I wondered how my pubic area would feel hairless. Then I thought of my teammates' self-inflicted butchery and worried I might do permanent damage.

Luckily, Mom wasn't home yet. I parked the car, changed into proper clothes, and walked to school for the next to last time. I should have stayed home for all the thought I gave to schoolwork. I only thought of my freshly shaved skin and the vivid images from Mom's intimate session. And, yes, of Carol and Michelle in the shower.

All day I schemed how to find the time and circumstances to shave under my Speedos, but I needn't have bothered. When I got home, Mom's car was gone, and she'd left a note on the coffee table telling me she had to pull a double shift and wouldn't see me until tomorrow at the swim meet. I had the evening to myself.

I stripped naked in my bedroom and went to the bathroom. My pubic patch isn't thick, but attacking it with a razor didn't seem wise. Mom used to cut my dad's hair with a barber's electric clippers, which I found in one of the drawers under the sink. I attached the shortest depth guide, flipped the switch several times to make sure it worked, then pulled my cock to gingerly cut away my sparse foliage.