Morning dawned bright, and a strong wind whipped across the lake, churning the water into choppy peaks. Sunlight glittered off the whitecaps, dazzling but deceptive—the wind carried a bite despite the warmth. Richard emerged from the tent first. "Pack up sharp!" he called, his voice snatched by the gusts. "Three hours of paddling into this headwind won't be a picnic!" He started wrestling with the damp tent fabric. Kathy followed, her eyes avoiding Kyle as he crawled out of the other tent.

Leslie groaned, shielding her eyes from the sun. "My arms are already jelly from yesterday!" She rubbed her sore shoulders dramatically. Kyle stayed silent, rolling his sleeping bag. His movements were stiff, his gaze fixed firmly on the ground whenever his mother shuffled past. Kathy busied herself stuffing gear into dry bags, her fingers clumsy and uncoordinated. The memory of Kyle's release inside her runs through her head.

Richard surveyed the choppy lake, hands on his hips. "Change of plan," he announced, his voice firm over the wind. "Leslie, you're with me. Kyle and your mom, take the other canoe." He gestured at the waves slapping the shore. "This wind needs muscle. Kyle and Leslie together aren't strong enough to punch through those rollers." He shot Kyle a pointed look. "Son, you'll need to pull your weight today. Your mother can't paddle alone."

Kathy froze, clutching a dry bag. Her stomach clenched. Sharing a canoe? Hours trapped inches from Kyle? The thought sent a jolt of panic through her, sharp and cold. She risked a glance at him. Kyle stared at the canoe, his jaw tight. He looked like he was facing execution, not a morning paddle.

"Richard," Kathy started, her voice strained against the wind. She forced a lightness she didn't feel. "Maybe Leslie and I...? She's lighter, easier to steer?" She gestured vaguely at the choppy water. "This looks rough." Her eyes pleaded with her husband, silently begging for a reprieve.

Richard barely glanced at her, already securing gear onto the canoe. "Nonsense, Kath. Leslie's strong, but Kyle's got the muscle needed today." He slapped the canoe's hull decisively. "You both will get it done." His tone brooked no argument, focused solely on the logistics of battling the wind. Kathy's shoulders slumped in defeat.

Kathy hesitated, eyeing the unstable canoe rocking violently in the shallows. "Kyle," she called, her voice tight. "Steady it for me?" He gripped the gunwale, planting his feet firmly against the tug of the waves. Kathy lifted one leg awkwardly, her balance precarious on the slippery wet. Kyle instinctively reached out, his hands settling firmly on her soft hips to steady her. His fingers pressed into the yielding flesh just above her waistband, feeling the familiar warmth and softness beneath. Her breath hitched audibly.

She scrambled in, settling onto the rear thwart with a thud that made the canoe wobble. Kyle shoved off hard, the canoe slicing into the choppy water. He climbed in front, his paddle dipping deep as Kathy fumbled with hers. Richard and Leslie were already pulling away, their strokes strong and synchronized against the wind.

Kyle dug his paddle in, muscles straining, but Kathy’s rhythm was hesitant, uneven. Her blade slapped the surface instead of biting deep. The canoe lurched sideways, caught by a gust. "Pull left!" Kyle barked, voice tight. Kathy jerked her paddle, overcorrecting. Richard and Leslie were shrinking dots ahead, more or less effortlessly cutting through the whitecaps.

The wind roared, flattening Kathy’s messy hair against her scalp as they reached the open water.  Richard and Leslie are barely visible ahead. Frustration bubbled hot in Kyle’s chest. Every clumsy stroke from behind sent the canoe veering off course. "Harder, Mom!" he snapped, glancing back. Kathy’s face was flushed, her eyes wide with panic.

Her mocha-colored button-down knit top stretched taut across her heaving chest with each frantic gasp. The small white plastic buttons strained against their holes. Her breaths came in shallow, ragged bursts – sharp inhales lifting the fabric violently, followed by trembling exhales that made it shudder against her skin. Sweat beaded along the collared neckline, darkening the knit where it clung. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the paddle shaft, her strokes weak and erratic.

"It’s too much!" Kathy choked out, her voice cracking like dry wood under pressure. Her gaze darted wildly from the towering waves to Kyle’s rigid back, then back to the vast, churning expanse swallowing them. The canoe bucked violently, slamming her thighs against the thwart. "Richard! Wait!" she screamed into the wind. Tears blurred her vision, mixing with lake spray stinging her cheeks.

Richard’s canoe was a distant silhouette now, slicing determinedly through the whitecaps. He didn’t turn. Kyle twisted in his seat, paddle dripping. His eyes locked onto hers—dark, intense, stripped of the panic she felt. "He can’t hear you," he stated flatly, his voice cutting through the wind’s howl. His gaze dropped pointedly to her trembling hands clutching the paddle shaft. "You’re exhausted. We need to land." He jerked his chin sharply towards the wooded mainland shore, a jagged line of pines barely a hundred meters to their right.

Kathy followed his gesture, her breath hitching. She nodded mutely, a jerky, desperate motion. Kyle didn’t wait. He dug his paddle deep, muscles straining as he forcefully turned the canoe’s nose towards the promise of solid ground. Kathy tried to mimic his strokes, her movements weak and uncoordinated, but the sheer force of his effort propelled them forward.

The canoe slid into the dense reed belt with surprising quiet, the thick stalks whispering against the hull. The wind’s roar faded instantly, replaced by a muffled stillness. Water lapped gently against the boat. They were deep within a fortress of green, the reeds towering overhead, bending slightly in the breeze above them, creating a dense canopy that hid them completely from the open lake. The water beneath was shallow, murky, and thick with submerged roots.

Kyle twisted around, and his gaze landed on Kathy. She sat slumped on the rear thwart, head bowed, shoulders shaking silently. Sweat plastered stray strands of brown hair to her temples and neck. Huge, dark crescents bloomed under her arms, soaking through the pale knit fabric of her top. Her breath hitched in ragged, wet gasps that echoed too loudly in the confined space. Tears tracked on her flushed cheeks, dripping onto her trembling hands clenched in her lap.

"What if the wind never stops?" Kathy whispered, the words thick with panic. She lifted her head, eyes wide and terrified, scanning the impenetrable wall of reeds surrounding them. "Richard, he'll never find us here." Her voice cracked. "We're trapped. Lost."

Kyle shoved his paddle down into the murk, anchoring them. He turned fully, his knees scraping the canoe bottom. "Mom. Look at me." His voice was low, urgent, cutting through her ragged breaths. He reached out, his calloused fingers brushing her trembling forearm. "We're safe here. This is a shelter. We just wait it out."

Kathy flinched at his touch, pulling her arm away as if burned. A choked sob escaped her lips. "Safe?" she echoed, her voice thick with hysteria. "Safe? After... after..." Her gaze dropped to her lap. The dam broke. Tears spilled over, hot and fast, tracking through the sweat on her cheeks. Her shoulders heaved silently at first, then erupted into violent, shuddering tremors. "Oh God, Kyle. What did we do?" she gasped between hitched breaths, burying her face in her hands, the knit fabric soaking instantly.

Kyle watched her unravel, a strange stillness settling over him. The frantic energy of the paddle, the panic of the storm—it bled away, replaced by a heavy, unfamiliar ache low in his belly. Seeing her cry, raw and exposed like this... it wasn't just guilt gnawing at him. It was a sharp, possessive pull. Her vulnerability, the damp fabric clinging to her curves, the tear-streaked flush on her cheeks. It ignited something deeper than shame. "It happened," he said, his own voice quiet. "And you liked it." The words hung heavy in the humid air. "And I liked it to Mom..."

Kathy’s head snapped up, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and something else. "Don't," she breathed, shaking her head violently, tears flying. "Don't say that!" Her hand flew to her mouth, stifling another sob. But her gaze didn't waver from his.

Kyle kicked off his worn hiking boots, the wet leather thumping onto the canoe floor. Water sloshed cold around his ankles as he stepped out into the shallow muck. Gripping the gunwale, he shoved the canoe deeper into the reed fortress until its hull scraped firmly onto solid ground, the rocking ceasing instantly. Silence pressed in, thick and humid.

He climbed back in, and the rear thwart groaned under his weight as he squeezed onto the narrow bench beside Kathy. Their hips pressed tight. Without a word, Kyle wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her against his chest. Her breath hitched, a small, broken sound muffled against his shirt.

"It's okay," he murmured, his voice gentle. One hand rubbed slow circles on her back, feeling the tremors beneath the damp knit. "Just breathe. We're okay." His palm slid up to cradle the base of her skull, fingers tangling gently in her sweat-damp hair. She smelled like lake water and salt tears.

Kathy shuddered against him, a deep, ragged inhale filling her lungs. "No," she choked out, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. Her lashes were spiky with tears, but the frantic panic had dulled. "We aren't okay." Her gaze dropped to his chest, her fingers twisting the fabric. "What we did... what I did..." A shaky exhale escaped her, "It was wrong." Her shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of her, replaced by a heavy, exhausted stillness. She didn't pull away.

Kyle’s arm tightened around her. "Wrong?" His voice was low. "You said Dad hasn't made love to you like that in years." His thumb brushed a tear track. "You deserve to be loved, Mom." The words hung between them, stark and undeniable. "Even like this. Even if it's twisted for everyone else." He gently kisses her head from above. "It's not your fault. You were starving."

The warmth radiating from his words seeped through her damp shirt, melting the icy knot of guilt lodged in her chest. She remembered the desperation, the aching loneliness that had driven her to him. A choked sob escaped her, but this time it wasn't despair. It was relief. She buried her face deeper against his chest, breathing in the scent of lake water and sweat and him. Loved. The word echoed silently in her mind.

Slowly, Kathy raised her head. Her lips trembled slightly before settling into a flat line. Her eyes, still red-rimmed, locked onto Kyle’s with unnerving stillness. "Then love me now," she whispered, her voice a gentle plea. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him even closer.

Their lips met softly at first, hesitant brushes tasting salt tears and shared desperation. Then Kyle’s hand slid firmly to cradle her jaw, tilting her head back. The kiss deepened instantly, a dam bursting open. Kathy gasped against his mouth, her hands scrambling to grip his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer as if trying to merge their bodies. It wasn’t frantic—it was profound. A slow, consuming fire that burned away guilt, shame, the storm outside, everything but this. Kyle’s own face staring back. Her lips moved with fierce tenderness against his, her tongue tracing the seam of his lips before deepening the kiss further.

Between breaths, ragged and shared, words spilled like sacred vows. "My beautiful boy," Kathy murmured against his lips, her thumb brushing his cheekbone. "My Kyle." He answered with a groan that vibrated through her chest, pulling her tighter. "All I need," he breathed, his lips trailing hot kisses down her jawline to the frantic pulse at her throat. "Just you, Mom. Forever like this." Each whispered confession landed like a balm, sealing the fractured pieces of their forbidden bond tighter than any promise could.

His kisses wandered lower, a slow pilgrimage down the damp column of her neck. Each press of his lips sent shivers cascading through her. He nudged her gently backwards. Her spine met the soft, yielding bulk of the packed duffel bags stacked behind the rear thwart. She sank into them with a sigh that was pure surrender. The coarse canvas felt impossibly soft beneath her, molding to her curves like the most luxurious mattress she'd ever known. Above her, the reed canopy formed a cathedral of green, dappling sunlight onto Kyle's intent face as he hovered over her.

Kyle’s hands stroked the soaked knit of her top. His fingers traced the outline of each button, not undoing them, just feeling the tension in the fabric stretched taut across her chest. "God, Mom," he breathed, his voice thick with reverence. "Look at you." His thumb brushed the deep crescent of sweat staining the pale fabric under her arm. "Even like this... soaked... you're beautiful." His gaze locked onto hers, unwavering. "This top, it drives me crazy." He traced the damp curve where fabric met skin beneath her breast. "Perfect."

His hands slid lower, tracing the curve of her hips through the eggings. Kathy arched her back slightly, pressing herself into his touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment before reopening, dark with need. Kyle’s thumbs hooked firmly into the waistband of her leggings, fingers spreading wide against the swell of her hips. He paused, his gaze locked onto hers, a silent question hanging in the humid air. Kathy’s breath hitched. She gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.

Slowly, deliberately, Kyle began to pull. The elastic waistband slid down over the soft swell of her belly, dragging the thin cotton of her underwear with it. Kathy lifted her hips, helping him, her eyes fixed on his face. The fabric whispered against her skin as it descended. First, the shadowed curve of her lower belly was revealed, then the dark, curling thatch of hair at the apex of her thighs. Her bush was dense, wild, and glistening faintly with sweat.

Kathy gasped, a sharp intake of breath that echoed in the stillness. Her legs trembled slightly as the leggings and underwear pooled around her ankles, leaving her exposed from the waist down. The humid air kissed her bare skin, raising goosebumps. Kyle’s gaze traveled down, lingering on the thick, dark curls. His breathing deepened, audible now. Kathy’s hands clenched at her sides, her chest rising and falling beneath her buttoned knit top.

Kyle gently guided her legs apart, spreading them wide. The worn canoe bench groaned softly as he lay beside her. His left arm slid around her shoulders, pulling her close against his side. His right hand drifted down, fingers brushing the damp curls. Kathy flinched, a tremor running through her. "Easy," Kyle murmured, his voice rough. "Just breathe, Mom."

His touch was tender, exploring the thicket. His fingertips traced the outer folds, finding her clit. Kathy gasped sharply as he circled the swollen nub. "There," she moaned. Her hips jerked upward, another choked moan escaping her lips. He kept the pressure steady, watching her face contort with pleasure.

Kathy looked down at herself, her gaze catching on the dense dark curls. She swallowed once, a flicker of embarrassment crossing her features. "Sorry," she breathed, her voice thick with arousal and shame. "It's... messy. I'll shave soon." Her cheeks flushed deeper crimson, contrasting sharply with the pale skin of her thighs.

Kyle's hand stilled instantly. He lifted his fingers from her clit, tracing upwards instead through the thicket. His palm flattened against her lower belly, fingers splayed wide over the soft curve beneath her navel. His touch was warm, possessive, protective. "Don't," he murmured, his thumb rubbing slow circles into the damp curls. "I love this." His gaze locked onto hers, unwavering. "Love exactly this." His fingers curled deeper into the hair, not seeking entrance, just claiming the wildness.

Kathy whimpered, her hips lifting off the bench. The sensation was overwhelming—his fingers tangled in her curls, the blunt pressure against her mound, and the heat radiating from his hand. Her voice was breathless, ragged. "But I'm so hairy, aren't I?" Her fingers fluttered nervously near his wrist, not pushing him away, just trembling.

"Yes, Mom," he murmured, his thumb circling her clit through the dense curls. "You are. So fucking hairy." The words vibrated low in his chest. His fingers slipped lower, parting her folds with deliberate slowness, finding slick heat. One finger slid inside her easily, curling upward. Her gasp was sharp, her body arching off the bench. "Kyle!" Her cry echoed in the green cathedral of reeds. His thumb kept circling her clit as his finger pumped slowly, deeply inside her. She felt herself clenching around him, wetter than the lake spray.

"Please," Kathy gasped, her hips lifting desperately to meet his hand. Her eyes were wide, pupils blown black with need. "More... please, Kyle... I want it... I need you..." Her voice cracked, raw and needy. Her fingers scrabbled against his shoulder, pulling him closer as if she could fuse them together. "Finger me... harder.. baby..."

Kyle obeyed, pressing deeper, clumsily twisting his wrist. His fingers jabbed erratically inside her, lacking rhythm or finesse. It was a frantic, inept exploration of a boy driven by instinct, not skill. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his brow furrowed in fierce concentration.

Kathy didn't mind. Each graceless thrust, each misplaced press only fueled her fire. Her hips bucked wildly against his hand, chasing the rough friction. "Yes!" she hissed, her voice thick with lust. Her thighs trembled, clamping around his wrist as he fumbled deeper. The sheer desperation in his touch, the raw hunger to please her, was more intoxicating than any practiced technique.

Her hand shot down suddenly, clawing at the straining bulge in Kyle's wet jeans. "No more fingers!" she gasped, nails digging into denim. Her eyes locked onto his, wild and pleading. "Put it in me! Now, Kyle! Please!" Her voice cracked, raw with need. She yanked frantically at his belt buckle, fingers trembling too much to...