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I opened the door to the bathroom and he was there, waiting for me to leave. I walked slowly past him as he stepped back, my hip just brushing against the still-evident erection in his sweatpants, my eyes looking up into his as he stared down. Not a word passed our lips, none was needed. Each knew what the other was going to do now, even with Bob oblivious downstairs.
As promised I wore the witch's costume to the party. I caused a nice stir and Bob was delighted when the VP, whose poker face when ogling me was poor enough for me to worry about him in negotiations, said that he and his wife must have Bob and me to dinner sometime. Bob's delight, however, was nothing compared to mine when I logged onto the website and saw Tom's post with the costume pictures and the response to it.
In a long post Tom described what had happened between us and it was both exciting and beautiful to read our encounter from his point of view. I read about how happy he was able to calm me at the start when I'd been on the verge of tears and how nervous he'd been that I was going to bring whatever was going on between us to a halt. He told them how his heart had been racing when he lowered the zipper on the Black Widow cat suit which made me smile as he'd seemed so cool and confident. Finally he wrote the following about the final few moments before Bob arrived:
'Mom hugged me, I could feel her body against me. I was raging with my hard on and I thought about trying to back away so she wouldn't feel it but, with everything that had happened between us, I figured that she didn't want me to. She had seen how hard I was and I think she wanted to feel it too. So I didn't back away at all. She smelled amazing, so womanly I can't describe it better than that. It is totally different to my GF - she's just a girl still, Mom is a woman and she smells like it in the best way. She feels womanly too.
'As you can all see, she has a great body still and yet it feels real, you know, just the right amount of give where you want it. Her hair, that glorious red mane that you've all seen was in my face and her lips were at my ear. Her voice when she spoke was rich, thick and soft, like the finest melted chocolate you could imagine. She said she wished it didn't have to end. I promise you she did. I was intoxicated or I'd never have said what I said next but I thought fuck it, this might be your only chance and I thought about what Rosebyanyothername said. She wants this, I thought, and so I said it didn't have to end. She looked into my eyes and we were gonna kiss, I swear to God that we were but it turns out it was good that we didn't cos my Dad got back. I was so fucking pissed off but can you imagine if he'd come back a bit later and found us together, with her wearing what she was wearing? Lol!
'The shit almost got really real. I really think that might happen now guys. I'm kinda scared. What if my Dad does find out? What does it really mean for Mom and I if we do something? Things can't go back, can they? I know I want it, I really do love her and she's also fucking gorgeous, but the scariest thing to imagine is what if she wants it too? And what does she want exactly? A fling? Something more serious? Or just to continue to tease the living fuck out of me? Any ideas guys? Oh, and one last thing...The final two JPEGS are of what she left on the bathroom floor...before and after as it were. And before anyone doubts, you can see them on her in one of the ballerina pics.'
I clicked on the last two attachments and up came a picture of my ivory satin panties as I'd left them in the bathroom, the gusset stained with my still damp juices. Anyone could tell that they were fresh off. I felt thrillingly filthy at the public exposure of my body's betrayal of my lust for my boy. I knew what the next photo would be long before I clicked on it. The same ivory panties decorated with Tom's cum. I zoomed in on the big white globules until it was so close I was almost taste it in my mouth and imagine it sliding down my throat like premium oysters. I reached out to touch it lovingly with my fingers, tracing the patterns with the tip of my index finger.
It was true, Tom had snuck at least one 'up-skirt' photo of me as the White Swan in which the self-same panties were molded around my puffy pussy lips. The sneaky bastard, I thought. When did he get that one? Just as I had suspected, Tom had indeed posted a picture of me full-length un-pixilated with the mask on, that flimsy piece of card and material being all that lay between me and public exposure as a depraved mother who allowed her son to photograph her in compromising positions. It was a good photo, the costume showing off my long legs and ankles to best effect, my breasts looking luscious in the tight, uplifting corset, and the creamy white of the costume perfectly offsetting the rich red of my lustrous, long hair and the crimson bow of my plush lips.
Staring at the image of myself, knowing that others had done so and might even now being doing so in different places all around the globe, jerking their white, black, Arabian and Asian cocks to my alabaster body, well it made me proud I don't mind admitting. Proud and not a little wet.
My ego was further boosted by the comments and replies to Tom's post, many of which expounded on my 'milfy' qualities and what they'd like to do with me and to me at great length. Few now doubted that Tom was going to 'get it' and there was much good-natured jealousy directed towards Tom, though still a few doubters as to whether I had the guts to go through with it and stop being a 'prick-teasing whore' who wouldn't put out. 'All fur coat and no knickers', was how one British correspondent charmingly put it! Well, I certainly wasn't wearing knickers the next encounter Tom and I had...
That came the day after the party. Bob and I had got back very late and both rather the worse for drink. Bob had seemed up for sex for once, excited no doubt by the prospect of further ingratiating himself with the company VP, though he did compliment me on my costume, saying he'd forgotten how sexy I could be. I honestly wasn't sure if I could go through with it. I felt repelled by Bob for all sorts of reasons but it also somehow felt like cheating on Tom. These last few weeks I had given my heart to my son and it just felt wrong to be with anyone else, even my husband. When he started pawing at me my skin started to crawl and, as he slobbered kisses down my body, I allowed my mind to slip away to somewhere else. After a few minutes, however, it became clear that there was a problem. Bob was soft as marshmallow.
"Can't you help?" He pleaded and I reached down and began to jerk him off. It did no good, though. He was too drunk and too tired to get it up. I sighed and released him. He apologized drunkenly for not being able to perform. I kissed him gently on the forehead like an indulgent mother and rolled over, facing away from him and, with my hand cupping my pussy, drifted off imagining what it would be like to have my real son's cock, a teenager's cock that never went soft, in my hands, my mouth and my pussy.
We both slept in late the next day and then, it being Saturday, Bob went to play golf while I pottered about the house feeling dreadful and looking worse. Good job that Tom or his internet friends weren't seeing me looking like this, I thought. To make myself feel better, I went upstairs and get dressed into a very short black cotton dress with big buttons all the way down the front. It was way too short to be worn without leggings but I couldn't be bothered to find a pair and, after a moment's deliberation, nor could I be bothered with panties. I'd enjoyed going bare the other day during my photo session with Tom and, without them, I suddenly felt daring and sexy again. I was just fixing my makeup when Tom called me.
"Mom, it's me," he said, rather unnecessarily. "Can you get some ice out of the freezer please?" This was a strange request.
"Ice baby? Why?"
"It's Katie. She was...um...trying on some heels and turned her ankle again. We're at the mall at the moment and it's much closer to our house than hers, so I thought I'd bring her home. She'll need an ice pack, though."
"Ok baby," I said soothingly. "Leave it to Mommy, I'll sort it out for you. Poor Katie," I said, my voice dripping with concern and sympathy. "Tell her that we'll get her rested up on the sofa and she'll be fine. I'll see you in about 20mins, yeah?"
"Thanks Mom, you're a lifesaver. I knew we could rely on you." I smiled to myself.
"You always can my darling," I told him. I put the phone down and went to the freezer and found an ice pack that I'd kept since Tom had started playing soccer. Then I went upstairs to get changed and make sure that I looked my best. I did feel a little sorry for Katie and the pain she must be in but I have to admit that I did find it amusing that she had hurt herself trying out heels. Call me a bitch, but I did, especially after how prissy she'd been about heels.
Had he asked her to try them out or had she decided that she felt she needed to in order to keep his attention? Either way, it just reinforced that she wasn't the girl to keep him and that she couldn't compete with me. To ram that message home, I wore wedge sandals that further emphasized my bare legs and also the black toenail polish that I'd worn with the witches costume the previous evening.
Tom couldn't help but stare when I opened the door to him and Katie, which wasn't very chivalrous but cheered me no end. Katie hobbled in on Tom's arm and I settled her on the sofa and cooed around her like a mother hen on stilts, bending over her to apply the ice pack to her ankle and then a moist towel to her head to keep her cool. From the stifled gasp that came from behind me as I did so, I figured that Tom had got something of an eyeful. I stood up, turned around, caught his eye with just the hint of a smile, smoothed down my dress and, with my back to Katie, put one finger playfully to my lip to shush him. Tom blushed but nodded his head and asked, in a slightly strained voice, if Katie wanted anything to drink.
"Diet Coke, please Tom," she said weakly and then smiled at him. "You're such a good boyfriend," she added and I swear she looked at me. I smiled back. You wouldn't be thinking that if you knew what he'd been up to lately and what he'd just been looking at, young lady, I thought. Tom fetched her a Coke and I sat down in one of the arm chairs, legs crossed, swathes of bare thigh visible, one sandal dangling from my foot.
"So, what happened Katie, dear?" I asked sympathetically, tilting my head towards her. She looked a little sheepish.
"I was...um...trying on some heels at the mall and...er...my ankle just gave way. I think it's only twisted but it's the one I hurt before," she explained.
"But I thought you *hated* heels Katie?" I asked innocently. She looked bashful and couldn't quite meet my eye.
"It was Tom," she whispered eventually, after looking to see if he was still safely out of earshot.
"He's just mentioned it a few times and it bugged me. I mean, I guess I shouldn't tell you this Mrs. Robertson, but he kinda likes my feet and he also said about how great you looked in heels the other day so I figured I wanted to look nice for him. I thought about what you said and all. And then, well, I was trying them on in the shop and my ankle just went again. It's never been the same since the accident." I leant forward and patted her hand. Poor girl, it was rather sad in several ways really.
"I told you that you shouldn't try, Katie," Tom said as he came back and hand her the Diet Coke before sitting opposite me in the other armchair. "They were way too tall and you're so out of practice."
"I know baby, I just thought..." she said, trailing off.
"Never you mind about what men think, dear," I told her, turning to face her in my chair. As I did so, I allowed my legs to part, giving Tom a direct view straight up my skirt to my bare pussy lurking in the darkness beneath. I couldn't bring myself to catch his eye, that was too brazen even in the state I was in, but I could feel his eyes on me, laser beams right up between my legs to my core. I could sense my pussy moistening, wondering if it has started to glisten. "They are just driven by their libido, especially at Tom's age. Isn't that right Tom?" I asked, turning back to face him and closing my legs as I did so.
"Er, um, sure, if you say so Mom," he replied, stuttering over his words slightly.
"You mustn't pay them mind, Katie. A woman must know she's sexy in herself and not need to have a man validate it for her," I told her, opening my legs once more for Tom to see as I spoke to his girlfriend, grateful that the arm of my chair blocked Katie's view of what I was showing her boyfriend. "It'll come Katie, dear," I said condescendingly, "and then you won't have to do silly things to please my naughty son and his libido," I said and turned back to him, closing my legs once more as I couldn't quite look him in the eye. "You should be ashamed of yourself Tommy," I said with a teasing smile and he laughed nervously.
"Oh, it really wasn't his fault Mrs. Richardson," Katie pleaded for him and I turned back to her, my legs falling apart again, another smile on my face.
"That's very loyal of you Katie," I said with a twinkle. "If only all men were as loyal as us woman, eh?" I added. After that, we decided to all watch a movie together and I sat properly as we did so, my legs crossed with my sandal dangling provocatively from my foot but each time I spoke with Katie to comment on some piece of action, I again gave Tom a full view of my pussy. I knew that each time I did, his attention was dragged from the movie, not to Katie but to me and to the honeypot between my long thighs. I was so wet, so excited with the thought of him staring at me, right in front of his girlfriend, who lay helpless on the sofa between us, a metaphor for what was happening to her in the increasingly intense dance between me and my son. She was collateral damage, unfortunate yes, but nothing was now going to stop me from getting my boy.
Tom was in shorts and I could spy his cock growing as he continued to stare down the barrel at my pussy. By the time the movie was past the opening credits, he was fully hard I reckoned from the sneak peeks I gave him of my own. Part way through, he got up and said he was going to get us some popcorn. He had to readjust himself as he did so. Katie blushed when she saw how hard he was and caught my eye. We giggled when he'd gone. She shook her head.
"I'm sorry Mrs. Richardson," she whispered conspiratorially. "He gets hard at the most inappropriate of times." I grinned back.
"Don't worry dear," I replied, "I just never knew that my boy liked cop movies so much," and we both giggled at the joke. "I'd better go and see if he needs a hand, what with you being incapacitated I suppose Mom will need to step up," I added and Katie smiled, missing the subtext entirely.
"Thanks Mrs R - you're so kind. Tom's really lucky to have you as his Mom," she said. I squeezed her hand.
"You're too kind dear," I replied. She really was. I strode out to the kitchen, showing her exactly how to walk in heels, and found Tom in the kitchen opening a big bag of popcorn and pouring its contents into the bowl. He looked at me, then down at his erection and then back at me. I half raised an eyebrow and smiled.
"Either you really like popcorn baby," I said softly, "or you're pleased to see me." Tom leant back against the counter for a moment, licked his lips and then replied.
"I just wasn't expecting to see so much of you Mom."
"I don't know what you mean," I replied enigmatically before looking down and smoothing out my dress. Though, I guess maybe this is a little short. What a pity you don't have your camera, eh? But darling, you might want to take care of that before re-joining us and I'll make sure you don't get distracted again by not being naughty." I took the bowl of popcorn from his uncomplaining hands, leant up and kissed him on the cheek, just by the corner of his mouth, took one popcorn and popped it between my red lips. "Mmm, yummy," I said. "See you in a moment, don't be long," I called from over my shoulder and returned to the living room to share my spoils with Katie. Tom joined us a few minutes later, a little flushed in the face.
"Where've you been, Tom?" Katie asked, turning her head to look at him. Tom shrugged.
"I just had to sort something out," he said, looking at her and then back at me. I smiled.
"Good, well now we're all back, can we carry on with the movie?" And we did. It even turned out to be quite good in the end.
That evening Tom wrote up the experience on his thread, together with a lengthy description of how he'd blown his load in the downstairs bathroom inspired by the sight of my naked pussy. He also informed the group that, thanks to their generosity, he was now able to afford the items for our next photo shoot - items he assured the group that would leave me in no doubt of his intentions. He also declared that he was now pretty sure that he was pushing at an open door and that, by some miracle, I really did want him as badly as he did me. All these revelations prompted, as you may imagine, another explosion of excitement and comment on the site. They seemed to share his conviction that the moment of consummation between us was not far away, but there was some concerned discussion about how proof that Tom had actually done the deed might be obtained. Some doubted whether I'd be willing to allow myself to be photographed actually fucking my son, while others were confident that a 'grade A slut' such as yours truly would be easily persuaded to pose 'with a cock in her cunt' given everything else she'd done for Tom. I figured that I owed it to Tom to allow him to prove his credentials once more.
I was nervous about the prospect, though, I'll admit. For all we'd done and all I'd allowed him to do, this seemed to be of another degree. I'd been racy, daring, reckless even in what I'd exposed to Tom and, knowingly, allowed him to expose to his online friends, but I hadn't actually shown anything really intimate like my pussy or my breasts to his camera lens. Could I really allow Tom to do that? I tried to ignore the increasingly loud voice inside me that found the prospect almost unbelievably exciting and decided instead that I'd cross that bridge when I came to it.
Tom hadn't revealed what the items he'd purchased actually were or when they'd arrive and so each day I waited with baited breath for the Amazon parcel. Tom obviously managed to grab it before I got home from work, however, for, a few days later, he posted that it had arrived and he was waiting for the right moment. I assumed that he was waiting for Bob to go off on another work trip, which he duly did a couple of days after Tom's post. I waited, heart fluttering each time I was with him for him to suggest another photo shoot, but nothing. He was making me wait, now I was the one being teased and it felt like agony. After the first day, I paraded through the house in bare feet all evening, with them painted up to the nines. He looked, admired, even commented on them but made no request to picture them.
The next day, I picked out a particularly short pencil skirt, coupled with a low-cut top that had garnered a fair amount of support on the site as something people would like to see me in but still nothing beyond a lingering look and a compliment about my legs.
It was a warm day and I was frustrated as hell by the time I got home from work. What was my boy playing at? I was sure he hadn't gone cold on me, so why make me wait when I was ready for him? Tom was in the living room when I returned flicking through various social media sites on his phone. I wanted to scream at him to look at me, to kiss me, to take me there and then. Instead, I decided that send that same message a little more subtlety. Not much, mind you, he is a man after all! After greeting him and remarking on how hot it was, I made my way to the kitchen and opened the freezer. In it, I found what I was looking for. I returned to the living room and sat down opposite Tom, asked him about his day at school and, with a little smile, unwrapped the popsicle I had in my hands. I drew it out, long, slim, perfectly cylindrical and blood red but covered, for the time being, in iced condensation.
