Jon hesitated as his mother turned to face him. He hadn't actually considered what he was going to say to his mother. Mind racing, he said, "You're a nudist."
As Jon watched, his mother's clothes disappeared, leaving her completely naked. "Of course I'm a nudist," she said. "I was raised a nudist, remember? I always thought that it was more freeing to never wear clothing if I didn't have too. I hate clothes, the feel, the unnecessary restrictions. It's not nudity that's unnatural; it's clothing that's abnormal. Covering your body with artificial pieces of cloth like we should be ashamed of our bodies. I tried to pass that on to you and your siblings, but somehow it didn't stick."
"It's not you, Mom," said Jon. "I guess society just proved stronger than you on that point. Maybe we'll come around to your view eventually."
"I hope so," said his mom. "Well, I have to finish cleaning. Have a good day, honey." She kissed Jon on his forehead and went back to work. Jon noticed that she had a tatoo of a butterfly on her ass, something that he hadn't noticed before. He couldn't take his eyes off her. She had a perfect body: perky breasts, perfect ass, long legs, pouty lips, fuck me eyes. Jon wondered what he should do next.
