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By Thor (thor4u@my-deja.com)

The summer after my high school graduation, Mom and I moved from Iowa to Santa Barbara, California so Mom could take a great new job. We arrived just in time for me to enroll in junior college.
I was lost that first semester, but I was in good company. A lot of us had expected junior college to just be the "13th Grade," sort of a continuation of high school, but it wasn't. I did fine, though, and got good grades. I also made a few new friends, mostly guys. I dated a few times, there were a lot of cute girls at the school, but nothing interesting happened.
My second semester, I took a heavy class load. Since I had to take some kind of an arts or music course, my academic counselor suggested a photography class. She said she didn't know the instructor, who was new to the faculty, but the course looked pretty easy. With my rigorous schedule, plus the fact I was trying out for the basketball team as a walk-on, we agreed I could use one easy class. So I signed up for ART 1930, Photographic Composition.
Basketball only lasted two weeks. I was cut from the team in the final cut, but the coach liked me and told me that I could continue to practice with the team if I had time. So I did. During games, I helped the trainers and coaches, and even went on road trips with the team a couple of times. I didn't have a title, they just called me "Barger (That's my name, Kyle Barger)." But it was fun.
Most of my classes were easier than I had feared. ART 1930, though, was an entirely different matter. It was easy (no tests - none) and enjoyable, but it took an incredible amount of time!
I liked Dr. Levy immediately. He looked like an escapee from a 1960's hippie commune. He was in his mid- sixties, tall and thin, and wore his snow-white hair in a ponytail that reached to the middle of his back. He wore open long-sleeved shirts, jeans, and sandals. He bragged about never having owned a suit. We later learned that he had retired after a distinguished career as a full professor of art at Berkeley, but was returning to teaching this year because he missed the interaction with young people. He said he found himself turning old, but the students kept him young. He was a brilliant man, but one of the most unpretentious people I have ever met.
At the first class session, without even saying "hello," Dr. Levy said he wanted to see how observant his would-be photographers were. He strode quickly to the classroom door, pointed to a girl in the front row, and said, "You. Young lady. Describe this to me."
Knowing this was an art class, and seeing his hippie artist affect, the girl launched into a 30-second description of the door. She didn't name it, but she gave the dimensions, the color, a thorough description of the woodwork on the frame and trim, and so forth. It was quite a detailed description, right down to the location of the nails, and the colors of the door handles.
"No!" Said Dr. Levy. "Okay, that wasn't fair, let's try something easier. Be honest with me now, and above all, be honest with yourselves. How many of you registered for this basic photography class because it was an easy 3-hour class? Be honest, raise you hands if you did that."
A lot of us raised our hands, just a few of us at first, but eventually more than half of the class. Dr. Levy laughed.
"Well, you made a mistake. This class is going to be very difficult for many of you. It will be very time- consuming for all of you-you can plan on spending at least 10 hours per week outside of class on photographic assignments. There is nothing mystical about learning photography, you just have to do it. You have to take pictures, thousands of pictures. I'm going to work your asses off!"
"Now let's go back to the first question (pointing to the door), what is this? It's a door. Those of you who signed up for this class because you thought it was a walkover are in the wrong classroom-you should use this door. Now!"
No one left. Dr Levy immediately charged into his first lecture, a basic discussion of the objects of photography. It was fascinating. There was nothing technical about it, in fact he said the technical stuff wasn't important. The important thing, Dr. Levy said, was to capture what you set out to capture-whether you were a scientific photographer, working in advertising, and artist trying to capture the essence of a delicate flower, or a war photographer.
At the end of the class, Dr. Levy gave us our first assignment, due the following Monday. We were to take ten rolls of film (240 pictures!), in black and white, of one group of people at work. The object was not artistic expression; it was simply to capture the reality of what they did for a living. He also told us that failure to submit any assignment on time, regardless of the reason, meant an automatic failure of the entire course.
Only 13 of the original 37 students returned a couple of days later for the second class. Dr. Levy was happy. Now we had a workable group of hardcore photographers.
The following Monday, I turned in my 240 pictures. With Dr. Levy's permission, and coach's, I had carried my camera to basketball practice every day, and had photographed everything. The pictures were unremarkable, except for a couple of good action shots during one game. Dr. Levy accepted all 13 portfolios without comment. He said he would look through them and we would discuss them later in the week. Then he would give us another assignment. He launched into his planned lecture.
When we came to class on Wednesday, though, 13 large poster-boards surrounded the room, one for each student. On the posters were a collage of our photos, a dozen or so, carefully selected by Dr. Levy from the 240 shots we had each turned in. We were amazed at how good we were!
To my surprise, Dr. Levy picked my photos as one of two sets for detailed discussion by the whole class. None of the action shots I liked were included in my collage. What he liked about my pictures was that they had captured a lot of the human interaction of the coaches and players. One shot showed the players, huddling in rapt attention on the sidelines with an assistant coach, frantically plotting a desperate defensive strategy that saved a victory in the final seconds of a game. Two other shots were in the locker room. One showed extreme fatigue after a close loss. Another showed several players roaring with laughter as they engaged in a towel fight.
The other collage was the work of Dianne Chu, a tiny Chinese-American student from LA. Dianne's brother is a Santa Barbara cop, and Dianne rode with him every night for a week, taking more than her required 10 rolls of film. Although the composition of her shots was pretty good, there really wasn't much going on in any of them. But that was what Dr. Levy liked about them. He surprised us by saying that he had worked his way through Berkeley as a San Francisco police officer.
This aging hippie had been a cop for six years! And from that background Dr. Levy understood, as none of us could, that Dianne's pictures captured the essence of mundane, routine, police work. There was only one picture that was dramatic-a shot of a female officer directing traffic at a horrible traffic accident scene. (We all knew that story, because a student from the junior college had been killed in that wreck.) But what Levy liked about that shot was not the pathos of a young mans death, it was that Dianne had captured an essential truth of police work: even when the world goes to hell around them, cops still have to do their jobs. No matter what they may feel later, somebody has to suck it up and direct traffic. In that light, it was quite a photograph.
Dr. Levy closed the class with two important lessons: 1) you have to take a ton of pictures to get one special picture, and 2) what you see in the printed photograph-and especially what others with different perspectives see-is often very different from what you see through the viewfinder. Then, Dr. Levy gave us our next assignment, and gave us two and a half weeks to do it, because he knew this assignment would require much more planning. The assignment was to photograph a person (or persons) of the opposite sex nude. Again, 240 pictures, in black and white.
There were several other criteria. First of all, the photos had to be of the same person or small group-in other words, you couldn't just spend the weekend at a nudist colony and photograph 240 different people.
Second, no genitalia and no tits-Levy was not looking for sex, he was looking for humanity stripped of its protective cover. So the shots had to be either from an oblique angle, or the subjects had to be partially covered with something. But they still had to be nude underneath.
Third, no pairing off. Taking pictures of each other would take twice as much time, and also Levy didn't want any criticism that this was just a ruse to see his students naked.
For those who could afford it, Dr. Levy suggested hiring professional models from a local modeling school, but only as a last resort. He closed the class by emphasizing that this was a serious exercise, not a game.
I guess I was very quiet that night at dinner, because Mom asked me if everything was OK. I told her it was, but she persisted in asking what was bothering me. The answer was simple. I had no idea who I could photograph. Because our money was a little tight, I couldn't afford to spend several hundred dollars on a professional model. I really liked Dr. Levy and the class, but I was thinking about dropping the class. I told Mom about the assignment and my dilemma.
Mom thought about it quietly for a couple of seconds, and then changed the subject. We talked about other topics for a few minutes, but I could tell that Mom's mind was somewhere else. Finally, she returned to the subject she had been thinking about the whole time.
"Kyle...what about me?" She asked.
"What about you what?" I answered. Duh.
"What about photographing me, Kyle?" She replied.
"Nude???" I questioned.
"Yes, silly...nude."
"Gosh Mom, I don't know. Wouldn't you feel a little weird?"
"Not with you taking the pictures, no I wouldn't. Would you?"
"Well, frankly, yeah. I think I would...a little."
"Why? I'm not that bad looking. As a matter of fact, I have a pretty damn good body for an old broad, even if I have to say so myself."
"No ...it's not that. You're very pretty, and yes, you have a very nice body...for a woman of any age. It's just that, like, you know...you're my Mom."
"Who better to photograph, Kyle? Besides...I've always wanted to see how I would look in a nude photograph by a skilled professional photographer."
"I'm not very skilled, Mom. And also, I've really never thought of you sexually. I don't know if I'd be okay with seeing you that way."
"Kyle...I'm not asking you to make love to me. I'm just asking you to take pictures of me. And I'm not just volunteering to help you out in your class. I'm mostly asking you for my own reasons. I'd like to be examined, and captured, and appreciated. I'd really like that."
And so it was agreed.
Mom wanted to start right away, but we had to do a lot of planning first. Plus...I was nervous! Photographing my Mom nude, what the hell was I thinking about? I didn't even know if I had the balls to photograph a girl I hardly knew nude! Shoot Mom? You must be shitting me!
But, we looked at the calendar and made a few plans. For one thing, I knew that natural sunlight would be much better than artificial lighting, so we wanted to do a lot of the shooting on the weekends, during the daytime. We had two weekends before the deadline, but we planned to use the first one for shooting and the second for a backup, in case we ran behind or had a problem. Also, we had to get some props. To my surprise, Mom volunteered to take care of that. She could get some things from the professional photographers in the art department at her advertising agency.
We agreed to shoot the first roll of film the following night. We weren't expecting much from this shoot, and I probably would not turn the pictures in. The main idea was just to get comfortable.
The next evening, Mom was all bubbly and giggling at dinner. She was very nervous, but she was also excited. She served wine with dinner, which she never did except for special occasions.
After dinner, we went right to work. Mom had not brought home any props yet, so we just decided to use the family room. I set up the camera and some lights I had borrowed from school while Mom went to "change."
When she returned, I gasped. I knew she was going to be naked for the shooting, maybe with a towel over her tits and crotch, but I really expected to see her in a white terrycloth robe she always wore around the house on the weekends. Not this time! She wore only a very light, nearly transparent, baby-blue nylon nightgown! It took my breath away! For some reason, it also scared me.
The thing that scared me is that, for the first time really, I was looking at my mother sexually. And she is a lot to look at! Mom is not real tall, only about 5' 3", but she has a spectacular body. She has a slender shape, her shoulders and hips are not too broad, but she has a pronounced tiny waistline, and very ample breasts. They are not huge (34), but they are very full (D cup). Her tits are perfectly formed, nice and firm, and they have small areolas and perky little nipples. They're gorgeous! Mom also has very pretty legs. Because of her thin body, her legs look longer than they really are. She looks long-legged, but as I said, she's really not very tall. Mom looked outrageously beautiful.
She saw me gawking and standing there with a dumbfounded look on my face...and she loved it!
"Oh my, Kyle. I guess you like what you see!"
I think I stammered something like "...I sure do," or something equally dorky.
"Well, you have no idea how good that makes me feel, Kyle. To have my handsome young son look at me like that, to appreciate the way I look...that just really makes me feel very special. Thank you, honey."
And then she floated across the room and kissed me lightly on the cheek. As she did so, one of her breasts softly brushed against my arm. She quickly apologized, but I said it was OK. OK? Goddamn right it was OK! It was wonderful!
Then Mom took off her flimsy nightgown, revealing her full beauty. But she didn't just whip it off and throw it on the floor. She pulled it off slowly, watching my reaction intently. Then she turned her side to me, and with her graceful back arched just perfectly, made a great show of carefully folding the nightgown. When she bent down to place the nightgown on a chair, she kept her back arched, and bent only from the waist, poking her magnificent, fine ass up in the air. It was an extraordinary, and brazenly sexual, performance. I was dumbstruck!
"Well...what do you think? Will I do?"
"Oh God yeah, Mom! You'll do just fine! You look incredible!" She smiled. I could tell my reaction really did make her happy. She had done what she did very deliberately, and she loved my response.
I took pictures slowly. We both worked together on poses. Since we really didn't have any props, Mom just posed on the couch and in front of the fireplace, using the flimsy nightgown to cover her strategic parts in the frontal shots. But we took most of the shots from the rear, or from an angle, with her facing away from me, concealing her luscious tits and carefully manicured bush. For those who might have seen the photographs, the shots would have left a lot to the imagination, but that was just what we were looking for. To me, however, my spectacular mother was fully displayed...and she wasn't the least bit bashful. In fact, she was really enjoying it!
In keeping with the spirit of this being a "get used to it" session, I had a little problem. I wasn't used to seeing Mom nude. In fact, I had never seen any woman nude like this! I wasn't a virgin, but I'd never had a beautiful woman strutting and parading around in front of me before. I guess it had to happen, but I got a hardon. Thank God I was wearing a pretty tight pair of bikini briefs, because they held me back somewhat! But I have a pretty big cock, and Mom saw it bulging in my loose khaki chinos. But she didn't say anything.
She just kept posing, and I kept shooting very slowly. I was trying to prolong the 24 pictures as long as I could. As we approached the end of the roll, I noticed a change in Mom. She had been smiling a lot, not only as part of the poses, but something just seemed to make her happy. But as we went along, her look got more serious. She was watching me intently, but would look away whenever I looked up at her from behind the camera. It was like she didn't realize I was also looking right at her when I was using the viewfinder. And then, I noticed that her tits had really perked up. Well not her tits, actually, I mean her nipples. They were hard!
As I took the last shot and re-wound the film, I just couldn't resist!
"Cold, Mom? We'd better get you covered up before you freeze!" I was joking about her nipples.
She knew exactly what I was saying. She looked down at them and said, "Oh these...? No ...I'm not cold. I'm just excited. I guess seeing you like that got me excited."
"Like what Mom?" I said, having gotten used to my hardon.
"Like that, Kyle. Hard. Seeing you hard made me excited. I'm very flattered that you like what you see. I'm not cold, I'm aroused."
"Uh, uh...OK, Mom ...well, uh...I guess we better get you covered up then." I mumbled.
"Why? I like being like this. And I know you like looking at me. Is this so bad?" And with that, she reached up with both hands and very softly touched her hard nipples. She jumped! And she instantly exclaimed, "Ooo! Oooooooooo! Yow! Boy, it's been a while since anybody's touched me like that!"
I thought I was gonna shit in my pants. I mumbled some excuse and dashed off to the bathroom. I didn't really have to pee, but I was glad I could when I got there. It gave me a cover story, and it also helped my raging hardon recede. When I returned to the family room, Mom was gone.
She returned in a few minutes fully dressed. Well, not really fully.
She was wearing an old pair of jeans and a white art festival tee-shirt. But she obviously didn't have a bra on. That was a big departure from regular dress. My Mom always wore a bra. I think she only took her bra off to sleep. But she sure wasn't wearing one now and her full tits jiggled deliciously whenever she moved. Even minor shifts in body position were occasions for celebration, as we talked on the couch. My hardon cheerfully returned, and although it was more difficult to see clearly because we were sitting down, Mom noticed it.
Finally, Mom spoke to the subject that had never left my mind.
"Kyle...do I make you nervous? Do I make you uncomfortable?"
"Yeah, Mom...you really do. I'm sorry, I'm just not used to seeing you like I have tonight. It's going to take some getting used to."
"I know Kyle. I'm not used to seeing you the way I've seen you tonight either. It will take me a little while to get used to it too. But you know what, Kyle? I like it, and you like it, and Lord knows we could both stand to loosen up a little! We are two of the most uptight people I know. We are always so serious, never having any fun. We both need to relax a little."
"I know that's true, Mom. But I'm just not used to seeing you like this. Not just naked, but right now! You always wear a bra, but you're not wearing one now, and it's driving me crazy!"
"Oh, let's not get too carried away, Kyle. I don't think I'm driving you crazy. I'm happy that you like what you see. You have no idea how good that makes me feel. But I don't think you're out of control, are you?"
"Not quite, Mom. But I'll tell you the truth...you are really, really hot! If you weren't my mother, I would jump your bones is a heartbeat."
"And you are very, very yummy, Kyle! You'd never have a chance to jump my bones, though, because if you weren't my son, I would have crawled all over your gorgeous body long before now!"
I laughed, partly because it was so funny, but mostly because I was really nervous. I said thanks, but she must be joking. Mom said she wasn't joking at all. She said she had been watching appreciatively as I had grown into a tall, strong and handsome young man. She said that I had a nice body, a "...great butt," and that she was very proud of the way I looked.
"And ...my studly young son, that looks like a pretty nice package you're keeping so well hidden in those chinos. You are going to make some woman very happy someday with that little item!"
Then, she giggled playfully and said it was time for bed. We hugged goodnight and I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, just like we always did. Well...not precisely like we always did. Mom intentionally rubbed her unfettered breasts into my chest as we hugged.
And then, just in case I missed it, she said, "Ooops, sorry!"
I couldn't let that pass, so I threw it right back at her, "That's okay, Mom...any time!"
We both smiled, but we left the challenge unanswered and went to our rooms. It took me two frantic handjobs to get to sleep.
The next day was Friday. Mom was down in LA all day at a marketing convention, and she was going on a dinner cruise that night with some colleagues, so she would not be back home until 2-3 AM. But we had photo shoots scheduled both Saturday and Sunday, and both of us were really looking forward to them.
At photography class on Friday, I talked with Dianne Chu, the tiny little Chinese-American girl. We had become friends and technical advisers, so we discussed our first photo shoots. We both had film to develop, and no plans for that Friday night, so we agreed to meet at the school's darkroom at 7 PM. As we left the class, Dianne asked me to walk with her for a while. She had something to tell me.
"Kyle, I like you and I don't want to give you the wrong impression. We're going to be developing nude pictures together tonight, and no matter how professional we try to be, its going to be an 'inspiring' time, if you know what I mean."
I knew exactly what she meant! I couldn't wait to develop the pictures of my beautiful and very sexy mother. I was certainly going to be "inspired!"
"But there is something you need to know about me, Kyle. I'm a lesbian. I'm gay. I would appreciate it if you would keep that information secret. My close friends know, but I don't really want it blabbed all over campus. I prefer to keep my private life private. And if you don't want to do this together tonight, I understand."
I was surprised. Not shocked, but surprised. But, hell, I was okay with it. Actually, in a way, it relieved an issue that might have surfaced, and really cleared the way for us to collaborate technically without distractions. I told Dianne that, and it made her happy.
At 7 PM we met at the darkroom and started working. The darkroom is huge and there were probably a dozen other people using it. But most of them were developing color film. We had the black and white area to ourselves. I had just the one roll to develop, but Dianne had two. We developed them quickly, and then started the tedious process of hand-printing.
Since Dianne had two rolls, she printed a roll first, with me helping her. We frequently adjusted the variables in the printing process to try to bring out particular characteristics in each photograph. We worked quickly and well together.
Dianne's nude model was Dan Chu, her brother the cop. I'm an enthusiastic heterosexual, but even I have to admit that Dan is a really good-looking guy. He's 25 years old, 6'1", about 215 pounds, and doesn't have an ounce of fat on his body. With coal black hair, and eyes to match, he looks like a Chinese version of some Greek god! I complimented Dianne on her choice of models, and asked her how she felt seeing her brother nude.
"Well, I was okay with it, and so was he. His girlfriend, though, was a pain in the ass. She insisted on being there, and wanted to watch in the nude. That made Dan horny, which made it difficult to pose him correctly, so we finally had to tell her to cover it up!" Dianne laughed, remembering the humorous situation. So did I.
As good-looking as Dan was, there was something about the pictures that just didn't work. They were too stiff, almost wooden. We didn't figure it out until we printed my pictures of Mom, and then printed Dianne's second roll.
When I printed my pictures, Dianne just couldn't shut up about how gorgeous Mom was. And she pressured me to find out who she was. Finally, she reminded me that she had shared a secret with me, and begged me to share this with her. I told her the model was my Mom. All Dianne said was, "Wow!"
The pictures of Mom were actually quite good. She was so beautiful, and her smile was so radiant, that it would have been hard to mess them up. Her happiness was apparent. But my pictures had the same stiffness that Dianne's did. But when we printed Dianne's second roll, we discovered the reason!
The second roll was really two separate photo sessions, twelve pictures each. The first shoot was Dan again, but this time in a humorous parody of a policeman. He wore his badge adhered to his left breast with double- sided tape, his gun-belt and holster, his hat, and other accessories. The poses were all humorous, and the stiffness was gone. Dianne said they had just been kidding around, waiting for Sherry (Dan's girlfriend) and she shot some quick shots using her power-winder, instead of carefully posing each picture.