URL: http://web.archive.org/web/20140820022650/http://www.literotica.com/s/mom-tries-belly-dancing
Author: alwayswantedto
Title: Mom Tries Belly Dancing
Tags: Mom Tries Belly Dancing, alwayswantedto, mother son incest, mother son sex, son, mother, reluctant, tease, milf, older woman, younger man

Summary: Am I ready for Dad, son?

All characters are 18 years or older.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Shit!"

As I walked up the driveway, I reached in my pocket only to discover my key was missing,
then remembered I had put it in my backpack before gym which I left it in my locker.
I had just run all the way home during my free period, evidently keyless, to get the
assignment I'd forgotten.

Mother fucker! If Dad would fucking help me buy a car I wouldn't be in this predicament.
Now the assignment would be late. There was no way I could get back to school, get
the key, run back home, and get back to turn the assignment. No way. No fuckin' way!
So, now I wouldn't get the 'B' Dad required to help me buy a car.

"Fuck!"

I stomped on the driveway, turned to go back to school, but wheeled around again.
What was the use of going back to school if I had nothing to turn in? I may as well
skip my last class. And do what? I turned back toward school but had only gone three
steps when I spun around again.

Was that music? Was Mom home? She was supposed to be working Tuesday and Thursday
afternoons. I took several steps toward the house and the music got louder. Great!
I could get my assignment and still make it back to school. I ran up to the house
and rung the bell. Nothing. Oh yeah, it's been busted for three fucking years. Why
doesn't Dad fix the frikken thing?

I knocked on the door but I could hardly hear it myself over the weird music inside.
Some kind of eastern stuff. Jesus, Mom was getting weird. I knocked louder with similar
lack of effect. Maybe Mom was in the kitchen and not the living room.

I walked around the house to the back yard, thinking about Mom. A couple of years
ago she 'turned over a new leaf' and got into a bunch of yoga stuff. Mom lost a lot
of weight which made her feel good about herself but since then she had gotten into
all sorts of weird stuff. It was a blessing when she quit telling us what she was
doing because Dad and I just looked at her like she was nuts. Dad eventually believed
Mom had worked through her mid-life crisis but I suspected she was still doing weird
stuff and just kept quiet about it. This confirmed it. It sounded like Mom was into
some kind of weirdo eastern religious thing.

Mom wasn't in the kitchen as I suspected and the back door was locked which surprised
me because she usually had it open during the spring and summer if she was home. If
she was out, it was always locked. So who was playing the weird music?

Then I remembered the emergency key hidden in the ornamental bird box near the corner
of the house. I retrieved it and returned to open the door. I stepped inside but didn't
announce myself in case some weirdo had invaded our home. I grabbed a butcher knife
and stepped quietly to the doorway, first peering up the stairs to the left and then
into the living room to make sure nobody was there. I didn't want anyone behind me
when I went upstairs. The fucker better not have hurt Mom if she was home.

What I saw in the living room stopped me in my tracks.

A woman dressed in some kind of Arabic costume was dancing with her back to me, shaking
her hips and tossing her ass, which wasn't half bad, from side to side. Her whole
body was in perpetual motion.

Fuckin' hell. It was Mom!

If this was what she was doing for exercise, no wonder she had lost so much weight.
I was about to say something goofy but held my tongue because a strange feeling was
percolating through me, like when you're scared, except this felt good.

Mom looked good! Real good. It was like I was watching a sexy older woman instead
of my mother. The flab was completely gone from her thighs and her hips looked wide
only because her waist was so narrow. I already knew she had lost lots of weight,
of course, but it wasn't so obvious when she was dressed in normal clothes. In this
outfit, I could see how nicely toned her body actually was.

The costume was made of a shiny gold material, with a see-through cape and a red silk
skirt that swirled around Mom's body as she moved. The skirt was slit way up on each
side so that one of Mom's upper legs was briefly exposed whenever she dipped down
and lunged forward. There were extensions from the blouse, made of the same filmy
material as the skirt, that reached to Mom's wrists, adding to the overall billowing
effect. Mom's hips and breasts were constantly in motion, sometimes in impossibly
opposite directions around her undulating midriff.

Mom was belly dancing!

Jesus, I was getting a boner! I looked down at my crotch in disbelief. What the fuck
was the matter with me? Despite myself, I felt no shame at that moment, only wonder,
but I was too enthralled with the show in front of me to spend much effort worrying
about it. I no longer felt the urge to say something goofy. I just wanted to watch.
I couldn't believe how hot Mom looked. The way she moved was something else, so fluid
and sexy.

It was a huge effort to drag myself out of the kitchen. I only left because, if Mom
had seen me, I knew I wouldn't be able to hide what I was feeling inside—pure, raw
desire. I closed the door quietly though it was unlikely Mom would have heard it over
the music even if I had slammed it shut.

Outside, I dithered. How to get my assignment? Should I just walk up to the front
door and bang on it, pretending I didn't have my key and had forgotten where the spare
was? No, Mom would still be in her costume and I couldn't face that because I wouldn't
be able to stop myself from checking her out. In the end, I decided it would be best
if Mom didn't know I had even been there.

But I couldn't go back without my assignment so I climbed onto the carport and slipped
through my bedroom window. Before leaving, I crept down the hall and peeked over the
stairs but couldn't see Mom very well. Disappointed, I withdrew to my room and left
the house, leaving the butcher knife which I had been carrying all along, in my room.
When I got back to the school, I still had a hardon.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I felt guilty for the rest of that day but once in my bed my hand found my cock and
images of Mom's body dancing in that flimsy, teasing costume filled my head. I imagined
having sex with it, the face a blank mask but the hair and every other detail of her
body intact. I moaned as I fondled breasts and slid my hand up the inside of hot legs
until I cupped a pussy while the other squeezed an ass. I wasn't overcome with guilt
until after I came and remembered that several times I had moaned 'Lisa', Mom's first
name.

If I could have whipped myself, I would have. As it was, I beat myself up mentally
all the next day but the next night I drenched my head with images of Mom's body and
my cock flooded my pajamas. I hid them under the bed and didn't remember my disgusting
behavior the next morning until I walked down the hall to the bathroom sporting a
huge morning hardon. The sound of Mom's voice made me look down, startled that I wasn't
wearing my pajama bottoms. I barely made it back into my room before Mom topped the
stairs.

At dinner, Mom said it was the strangest thing, but her favorite butcher knife was
missing. Later, I got the knife from my room and put it back in the drawer. That night,
before going to bed, I flung my belt over my back in an attempt to flagellate myself,
like I'd seen a priest do in a movie once. It hurt, so I quit.

Once again, my hand found my cock and it filled my pajamas while I moaned into my
pillow, "Mom, oh Mom."

It was Thursday. I tried to berate myself several times through the day but the punishing
thoughts were replaced by potent fantasies that proved too elusive to quash. By early
afternoon, I couldn't think of anything else and was admonished by my teachers for
daydreaming several times.

I skipped my last class.

The music was playing again but not quite as loud as I remembered. Still, I managed
to sneak in the back door and to the kitchen doorway without being discovered. I stopped
to get the butcher knife, thinking that if Mom caught me watching I could claim I
thought someone was in the house and the knife would back up my story.

Mom was belly dancing again, looking as fine as she had on Tuesday and even sexier
than she appeared in my dreams. I hadn't imagined the muscular tone of her thighs
as they thrust through the slits in the skirt, or the shadows that played over her
tummy as she stretched and scrunched and twisted it around. And her ass, in constant
motion, was a far cry from the stills that populated my masturbatory imagination.
It was a magnet for my eyes and my cock.

"Curtis!"

My head jerked up. Mom had stopped dancing and was staring at me, in apparent shock,
one hand held up in front of her mouth.

"Mom," I yelped, throwing my hands in front of myself to cover what I knew was big
enough to show.

Of course, that was exactly the wrong thing to do. Mom looked down.

"What are you doing with that?"

I followed her gaze, starting to go red, then realized she was looking at my side.
Oh yeah, the knife.

"I, uh...thought there was a burglar in the house."

The hand dropped away from her mouth. "What?" Mom laughed, looking relieved. "A burglar?"


"Yeah," I said, then laughed too. "You scared the shit out of me."

"Well, you scared me too," she said, ignoring my profanity. "What are you doing home?"


"My last class was canceled," I lied. "What are you doing? I thought you were working."


Mom blushed and suddenly looked self-conscious, her hands lifting to cover the costume
and roaming across the front of her torso as she tried to cover everything but realized
she couldn't.

"Well, uh, I'm dancing…belly dancing…for your father," she explained. "I'm going to
surprise him, when I'm good enough," she added.

Mom's hands continued moving in a futile attempt to cover her womanly assets. She
started moving toward the stairs.

"I better get changed."

"Wait," I cried.

I don't know why I said that. I guess I didn't want her to go just yet. But Mom ignored
me and ran up the stairs. I followed, running up behind her.

"Mom."

She ran into her room and closed the door. I was so close I almost bounced off it.


As you can probably imagine, imagine the rest of the day was quite awkward. Mom avoided
me and the few times she couldn't, nothing was said.

The next morning, I woke up with crusty pajamas again which I hid under the bed with
the other two pairs until I could wash them myself when nobody was home. But when
I got home that afternoon, there was a pile of freshly laundered clothes on my bed,
ready to put away. The pajama bottoms were there too. I felt very sheepish and didn't
want to go down for breakfast. I waited until the last minute, slipped into the kitchen,
gobbled my food, and got the hell out of there.

I hung around school late and didn't go home until I knew Dad would be there because
I was still embarrassed. I ran straight up to my room when I got home. I didn't want
to go downstairs for dinner either but went when my father bellowed for me to get
downstairs. I still felt sheepish but Mom acted as if nothing was wrong and I eventually
lightened up. All through the weekend, nothing was said about Mom's dancing, or my
laundry problem.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

On Tuesday, I skipped last class again.

I slipped through the back door, which was unlocked, but didn't bother with the knife.
The music wasn't as loud but Mom was dancing. I watched her for a while, getting more
and more excited, leaning against the door jamb in a way that partially hid the effect
Mom was having on me.

I was being pretty obvious, and creepy I guess, but I could help watching. Strangely,
I had a sense that Mom knew I was there but she didn't look my way until the dance
was over and she finished with a dip to her right knee, the left thrust forward, forceful
and bare.

"Curtis," Mom said, looking as if she had just discovered I was there. "Are you playing
hooky?"

"Hooky?" I asked, in a voice just as ordinary as the one in which she had asked, though
I felt anything but normal.

"Skipping out," she explained.

"No, uh, I'm finished the section ahead of schedule so Mr. Garret told me I could
study whatever I wanted to."

"Well, he didn't tell you to leave school, did he?"

Mom was still down on one knee, the full length of her left leg exposed, making it
hard for me to concentrate on anything else.

"What?"

"I said, he didn't give you permission to leave school, did he?"

"Um, yeah, actually he did. He didn't want me to stay in class and the library is
being used by another class during last period."

Mom got up and I glimpsed a flash of green panties.

"Well, don't sneak into the house."

"I heard the music and didn't want to disturb you."

Mom looked suddenly self-conscious. "You should have let me know you were there."
Mom walked toward me, screening herself with her hands, looking down and away from
me. "And you should stay at school to study," she said.

"I...you...uh, you're pretty good," I stammered.

Mom didn't reply as she swept past me and started up the stairs. I followed her like
I had on Thursday. She sped up and whisked into her room, flinging the door but not
hard enough for it to close so I entered her room.

"Mom."

"What?" Mom picked up a dress which had been discarded on the bed and held it in front
of her, a far more effective screen than her hands had been. I noted various other
items of clothing on the bed: pantyhose, a bra, and most interesting, panties.

"I need to get changed," Mom said, eyes cast down in embarrassment and posture clearly
indicating I should leave.

I tried to think of something to say that would allow me to stay longer. My thoughts
ran around in circles as Mom looked increasingly uncomfortable.

Finally, I blurted out, "I won't tell Dad."

I didn't know how Mom would react to that and was somewhat surprised when she looked
up and I saw relief in her eyes. "You won't?"

I shook my head, relieved myself and unsure of what to say next, but I rolled with,
"I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise."

"Good, because I'm not ready yet."

"It looked like you were. You're pretty good."

Mom's hand relaxed and the dress lowered a bit.

"You think so?"

"Yeah, you looked like you really know what you're doing. You look ready now, but
it's your call."

Mom smiled, looking quite pleased, then frowned.

"You don't know anything about belly dancing."

"I know what looks good. Don't forget Jenny took a class."

This was a big lie but I wasn't going around with Jenny anymore so it was unlikely
Mom would find out. That was the second lie I'd told Mom in not many more minutes
which was quite unlike me. It showed just how much I didn't want to leave, or more
to the point, how much I liked seeing Mom in this costume.

"I know. I saw her in one of my classes last week."

Holy shit, that was news to me. Anger surged within me. Jenny wouldn't even let me
put my hand down her pants and she was taking belly dancing lessons for that fucker
Johnson?

"What's the matter?" Mom asked, stepping toward me, looking concerned, forgetting
about the dress which dropped lower, exposing more cleavage.

"Nothing," I said, removing the anger from my face. "It's just that, uh, Jenny dumped
me."

"Oh no. Sweetie, I didn't know."

Mom raised a loving hand to my cheek and let the other, which was holding the dress,
fall to her side. I tilted my head and cast my eyes downward, as if depressed, but
really I was taking in the wonderful vista of Mom's swelling upper breasts and the
intriguing separation between them. The skimpy costume left little to the imagination,
exposing the inner swells of Mom's breasts to the point where they swept away from
her chest. Mom pulled back to look at me and I averted my eyes just in time.

"You should have told me. I wouldn't have been so friendly if I'd known." Mom's eyes
slid down and to the right as a thought struck her. "Come to think of it, Jenny did
seem a little uncomfortable around me."

I dropped the crestfallen look and replaced it with a cheery one. "It's okay, Mom.
I didn't like her all that much anyway. Though I have to say, I did like watching
her belly dance."

"Poor baby."

Mom put her hand to my cheek. She wasn't worried about me missing out on watching
Jenny dance. Instead, she was consoling me, interpreting my cheery expression as simply
putting on a brave face. She obviously believed Jenny had hurt me and, in truth, she
was right.

"I could watch you instead."

"Watch me? Oh no, I don't think so." The hand withdrew from my cheek.

"Well, how else are you going to know if you're good enough to show Dad? You want
to be sure before you do it in front of him, don't you?"

The fear of embarrassment shone in Mom's eyes and I leapt on the opportunity to take
advantage.

"I'm family, for crying out loud. You don't need to be shy in front of me. You're
good, Mom, but you need to practise in front of an audience. Who better than me?"


"I suppose," Mom mused, but she didn't look convinced.

"Well, I guess you could just dive right in with Dad, put yourself right out there
like."

I let my voice trail off and started to turn away but Mom reached out and grasped
my arm. I turned back to look at her.

"I guess it would help it you watched to see if I make any big mistakes. I know you
don't know about the finer aspects, like Mrs. Sadat, but like you said, you can see
if I'm making a fool of myself."

I nodded. "I can do that," I assured her.

Mom brought the dress up between us as if she had suddenly become self-conscious again.


"Okay. So let me get dressed now and on Thursday you can watch me for a bit before
Dad gets home."

I took hold of the dress and tugged it toward me.

"There's still time to practise before Dad gets home."

Mom shook her head. "Thursday," she said.

"Now," I insisted. "There's no sense putting off until tomorrow what can be done today."


Mom laughed, realizing I was teasing her with her own words. "Brat."

"Slacker," I retorted.

I tugged on the dress and Mom resisted but let it slide through her fingers. I didn't
want to wait until Thursday in case she changed her mind and, anyway, if we got started
now it would be less awkward on Thursday.

"Come on," I urged, pulling harder and gaining six inches of dress. "Don't be lazy."


Mom reluctantly let her hands go loose and the dress came free. I stepped back several
feet, holding the dress in front of me like Mom had held it in front of her. I realized
then that I was hard and probably had been, unbeknownst to both of us, the whole time
we had been talking. Now it was I who was thankful for the cover.

The music was still playing downstairs. Mom canted her head to the side, listening
to the song, then began to move her hips in mini-movements in time with the beat.
She seemed a little hesitant and I wished we were downstairs in the shadowy living
room where Mom had pulled the drapes but was afraid to suggest moving now that she
had started.

"I'll set the mood," I said, moving toward the large windows.

I pulled the curtains closed but it didn't darken the room much so I followed with
the heavier drapes. The room darkened so much that I had to turn on one of the bedside
lamps. I sat on the edge of the bed, draped Mom's dress over my lap, and looked at
Mom who was now sweeping more confidently across the floor with hips that did more
than just twitch.

Mom avoided my eyes as she became more animated. I sat as still as I could, hoping
Mom would forget I was there. Within a minute or so, she looked much like she had
downstairs, cocking, swaying, and thrashing her hips. Though her movements were more
muted than when she was dancing alone, and a tinge of self-consciousness hindered
her performance, it was still wonderful to behold. In fact, it was so fantastic I
was glad to have the dress tossed over my lap. Thus protected, I leaned back on the
bed, bracing on hands stretched behind me, to enjoy Mom's dance in comfort.

My hands landed in something silky. It was Mom's underwear, the bra on the left and
the panties on the right. I froze, momentarily panicked that Mom would see where my
hands were and stop dancing to angrily decry my outrageous behavior but I needn't
have worried. Mom was moving more fluidly now and seemed unaware of my presence, let
alone what my hands were doing.

The feel of Mom's underwear in my hands, especially her panties, made my cock surge
within my jeans. I scrunched my right hand, bunching Mom's panties until they were
held in a ball within my fist. I leaned forward, bringing my right hand alongside
my hip, and tried to shove the panties into my pocket when Mom's back was to me but
missed on the first and second try because I was watching the swing and bump of Mom's
ass.

Mom looked awesome. She really did know what she was doing which made me wonder how
long she'd been at it. A long time, I suspected. From time to time, her legs were
tantalizingly exposed, thrusting forcefully through the slits in the red skirt with
even more abandon than I had previously witnessed. Mom seemed to have totally forgotten
my presence and was really getting into the music. I was a little disgusted with myself
for getting a boner over my own mother, but who wouldn't get a woody watching this?
I felt an urge to rub my cock through my jeans and barely managed to kill the impulse.


Mom had turned to face me and was slowly shaking her way toward me with a saucy smile
on her face. She was truly captivated by her role. My chest constricted and my eyes
widened as I reacted to her undulating body, heated eyes and flashes of flesh competing
for my attention. I could do little but stare, open and dry-mouthed. I wanted to cover
my crotch, sure that my erection must be showing despite the dress thrown across my
lap, but I couldn't move any more than I could breathe.

Just as it felt like I would die of asphyxiation, the music stopped and Mom slowly
unwound, standing in front of me at the side of her bed, and laughed breathlessly,
clearly delighted with her performance. Her eyes were wild with excitement and she
breathed heavily from exertion. I remembered to breathe myself.

"So what do you think?"

"That was awesome, Mom."

"You really think so?" her eyes lit up even more, if that was possible.

"Absolutely," I confirmed enthusiastically, bathed in her excitement.

"I didn't make any mistakes?" Mom asked.

I shook my head. "No, you were perfect."

Mom was pleased but sought criticism anyway. "I couldn't have been perfect. I must
have done something wrong."

"No," I said, slowly shaking my head, "your performance was flawless."

"So you think I'm ready for your father."

I felt a sudden and inexplicable urge to deny my father this special treat.

"I didn't say that."

"But you said..."

I jumped to my feet, bringing myself to a standing position close to Mom, poised to
explain myself but scrambling to find the words. The dress fell off my legs, leaving
my crotch unhidden, and all cognitive capacity suddenly deserted me. I tried to step
past Mom because I had no explanation for why I thought she wasn't ready and knew
I was incapable of coming up with one, but Mom grabbed my arm and held me back. Somehow
I managed to keep myself partly turned away from her.

"Do you think your father would prefer a different style? There are different ways
if that's what you mean."

"Yeah, I know," I said, stalling, hoping Mom would expand and provide me with a suitable
reason for why she supposedly wasn't ready to dance for Dad.

"You're thinking of something in particular?"

I shook my head and the joy began to fade from Mom's face.

"Slower," I blurted.

"Slower? Hmmmm, well, I have to dance to the music, but...hmmmm, I'll...let me think
about it."

"I mean, you were great, but..."

"No, don't worry about it. I appreciate your feedback, really I do. I think I actually
do dance better with an audience."

"Yeah, well, anytime," I said, trying to appear nonchalant. I pulled my arm away from
Mom. I needed to get away because my erection wasn't subsiding and I felt uncomfortable
knowing that Mom only had to glance down to know what I really thought.

"Thanks, Curtis," Mom called as I exited her room and made a beeline for my room.


For the rest of the afternoon I tried not to think about Mom, especially when she
was dancing. Away from the situation, I felt pretty uncomfortable about my reaction
to her. Dinner that night dragged on forever and I escaped to my room as soon as possible.


However, once in bed, I kept thinking about Mom in ever more lurid detail. My cock
was suddenly in my hand and I turned my face into the pillow, into Mom's panties,
and pulled on my dick. By the time I exploded, I was mumbling into the pillow, "Mom,
Mom." She returned, dreamily dancing toward me, breasts shimmying, hips shaking, and
smiled at me with smoky eyes. A final burst emptied into my pajamas.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Thursday morning at the breakfast table, Mom asked me if I had a free period at school
that day. I guess I wasn't awake yet because I responded, "No."

Mom looked disappointed, flashed a brief look at Dad who was reading some papers from
work, and then looked at me more intently but I didn't respond. I was confused about
her question because guilt about what I'd done last night soaked my brain.

At school, after lunch, the memory of Mom asking her question at breakfast popped
into my mind again. El stupido! Of course. On Tuesday, I had used the excuse of a
free class to explain why I was home early and she knew my schedule. I had a class
with Mr. Garret on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I banged my hand against my forehead. Dimwit!
Mom was probably wondering if I'd observe her dancing again.

I skipped my last class and beetled home. Sure enough, the sound of middle eastern
music emanated from the house. I walked around to the back and noticed that the door
had been left ajar. I slipped through the door, slung my bag off my shoulder and set
it quietly on the floor, then approached the doorway to the living room.

Mom wasn't there but just as I started up to look for her she appeared at the top
of the stairs, looking down at her side as she fussed with one of the veils attached
to her costume. I stopped dead in my tracks. The outfit she was wearing was similar
to the one she had worn the week before but this time it was green and gold and was,
if anything, more revealing. Or, maybe I had just forgotten how good Mom looked in
the other costume. Mom looked up, startled, and frowned when she saw it was me.

"I thought you didn't have a free period? You're not skipping out, are you?"

"No, no. I just forgot about it this morning."

Mom shook her head and walked past me. "You better screw that head of yours on before
it falls off."

I turned as Mom passed by me. She was wearing a dark green bikini under the silky
blouse and skirt. Everything shimmied nicely as she moved. At the bottom of the stairs,
Mom stopped and turned around, almost catching me before I lifted my eyes.

"I need to play the music pretty loud. You should have stayed at school if you need
to study."

"I'm all caught up. That's why I came home."

Mom turned and walked into the living room.

"I can watch, if you like."

"You don't have to," she said, turning the music up, "but suit yourself."

It was obvious from Mom's tone that she wanted me to watch her performance to make
sure it was up to snuff but she had been miffed this morning when I didn't pick up
on her hint. I yelled over the music as she started to move. "I forgot about my free
period this morning," I said.

Mom put a hand to her ear, "What?"

I shouted louder. "I forgot about not having a class."

Mom acknowledged me with an off-the-cuff wave of hand so I plopped down onto Dad's
chair and watched her dance. It was pretty tame compared to what she'd been doing
but it was still worth watching. She rattled her hips and shook her shoulders, which
made her breasts jiggle, but there weren't any dipping lunges with legs thrust through
the slits in her skirt or fast twirls that spun it high to expose her thighs. I was
somewhat disappointed and hoped she was just getting warmed up.

Mom finished the dance and then another no more exciting than the first followed by
a third that was a little better. She stopped the music after that and sauntered into
the kitchen with the matter-of-fact demeanor of a ballet dancer at rehearsal. Anyone
familiar with these events knows that ballet dancers are athletes and backstage resembles
the locker room at a football or hockey game more than a haven for artists.

Mom returned with a large glass of water and took a huge drink. Some dribbled from
the corner of her mouth and onto her chin which she absently wiped away with the back
of her hand as she looked at me with a blank expression and lifeless eyes. I couldn't
read her which made me nervous.

Was she done? One moment I thought she was and the next I was sure she would continue
and the dancing would get a lot better. I didn't know what was going to happen until
Mom brushed past me, walked to the stereo and started the music, then began dancing
to the gentle beat, swaying more than jiggling, and hips rolling rather than shaking.
The skin on my balls, already pre-warmed, tightened, and my whole body tensed as I
leaned forward to watch with greater concentration.

Mom moved fluidly around the room for several minutes, her pace constrained by the
beat of the music, yet the intensity increased with each step. She wasn't dancing
faster but the definite, controlled movements conveyed an impression of barely contained,
pent-up energy and her hair whirled through the air when she spun around though she
hardly moved faster than someone doing Tai Chi.

My cock strained against the confines of my jeans the first time Mom swooped low,
right knee thrusting through her skirt and briefly exposing an expanse of thigh before
she pulled out of the dip with her left leg, then dipped low with it too before quickly
dragging herself out with the right, drawing it into line with the left and stopping
in a pose that tightened the muscles in both legs beneath her arched back and thrusting
breasts, head and hair tossed wildly back. Mom's arms remained stiff by her sides
as she dipped her hips and thrust herself forward in an aggressive, grinding bump
before swirling away in a flourish.

The rest of the dance continued like that, building slowly, then bursting forth in
a continuous blaze of thrusts and straining poses, bumps and grinds, but never too
quick for me to appreciate, and always sensuous, a perfect depiction of constrained,
sexual fury. It was hot, Mom was hot—I was hot!

When the dance came to a crashing finale, Mom held her last pose, straining up on
her toes for a long moment, then relaxed and turned to me, excited and pleased.

"Was that slow enough?" she teased, mocking me.

Though Mom didn't look at the obvious physical confirmation in my lap, I had the feeling
she was aware that it was definitely enough. She picked up her glass and disappeared
into the kitchen. Looking down at the bulge in my jeans, I wondered if she was giving
me time to recover. I got up to sneak away to my room to relieve myself, or at least
remove the evidence of my illicit thoughts, but Mom returned with a full glass of
water. Another song started playing, one even slower than the last one.

"Where are you going?"

"Um, I...uh, I..."

Mom grabbed my wrist and my cracked voice dwindled to a mumble. Mom took a big swig
of water and stared into my eyes as her mouth filled, over-flowed the corners and
dribbled onto her chin. She didn't have a spare hand this time to wipe it away. She
stood, looking at me, still breathing heavily, with that same expressionless face.
She took another swig.

"Let me know if your father would like this one," she husked.

I nodded and Mom dragged me into the middle of the living room. She turned and gulped
down the rest of the water, regarding me with the same indecipherable look she had
at the base of the stairs. She tossed the empty glass carelessly onto the couch.

"Stay still," she said.

Mom started the song over and immediately began to dance. She swept slowly around,
sometimes facing me and sometimes sliding by with her back or side toward me. It was
quietly exciting, her perfume filling my nostrils as she swished around, almost as
good as the musk of her body sweat.

But the most exciting thing was the way Mom looked at me. The expressionless face
was gone and she no longer acted like I wasn't there. Sure, I was standing in for
my father, but I was still part of the action, and the way Mom reveled in her steamy
performance would have made a piece of wood get excited. There was no way I could
hide how I felt, her presence was too powerful and the feelings it produced too strong.
I was turned on and Mom knew it but rather than being put off she used my reaction
to sink deeper into the dance.

Mom became wilder and wilder and she pulled me deeper into her world. I was sporting
a huge erection but there was nothing I could do about it and I didn't much care.
Mom never looked anywhere but at my face anyway but I knew by the glint of her eyes
she was aware of the effect she was having on me. Mom was thrilled with the power
of her dance.

As the music became more frenzied and Mom's dance matched its intensity, she began
swirling closer and closer to me until, eventually, her body grazed mine. First, it
was across my back, then my front as she scraped her vibrant ass across my bulge,
then whirled around and brushed her breasts across my back. The music ended just as
Mom flung herself to the floor in front of me, one foot stretched back and the other
supporting a bare thigh thrust through the skirt toward me, as she tossed her head
back and let her hair dangle to the floor.

Mom retained this final pose as the music ebbed away, more than long enough for me
to look through the split skirt and take in the full, puffiness of her throbbing,
sweat-drenched panties. I barely managed to meet Mom's eyes when she pulled her head
up and fixed her triumphant gaze upon my face.

"Wow!" I cried. "Just wow."

Mom laughed and got to her feet. It was then I realized that Mom had been on her knees
before me. She had been looking up at me but her face had still been even with my
bulging jeans.

"You think your Dad will like it?"

"If he doesn't, he's dead inside."

Mom looked very pleased but when she looked down she laughed nervously and then looked
away. It was a weird feeling, knowing she had looked right at the bulge in my jeans.
It made me uneasy but at the same time, I loved it.

"I guess you would know," she said, then added right away, "Gosh, I need a drink."


I followed Mom into the kitchen, watched her fill a large glass and down it, focused
on the water that spilled over her chin and dribbled onto her chest before trickling
into her heaving cleavage. I waited while she refilled the glass and watched her drink
it more slowly. We looked at each other in silence and I couldn't help letting my
eyes wander down the length of her body. When I came to my senses, I looked up just
as Mom turned away to refill the glass a third time.

For a minute, I thought she had been looking at my jeans but quickly dismissed the
notion. I was turned on, and Mom was aware of it, but there was no way my sexual excitement
could be reciprocated. Her excitement was completely derived from the dance and the
realization that she was good, good enough to please my father. I could have been
anybody, any man.

I turned away and went up to my room. Half way there, I realized what that meant.
I could have been any man. Mom wanted to know if she was ready to dance for Dad and
had danced in front of me as if I was a man. I started touching myself before I even
got into my room.

After supper, I helped Mom clean up in the kitchen. She was in a good mood and whenever
she crossed the kitchen, she danced a few steps. When she caught me watching her,
she smiled and gave her hips an extra twitch, her eyes sparkling with deviltry. We
shared a muted laugh.

That night in bed I thought about Mom kneeling on the floor before me but this time
my cock miraculously flopped out and landed on her lower lip which seemed extra pouty
for some reason. My glans bounced off that moist cushion and the upper ridge of my
helmet scraped beneath Mom's upper front teeth on the way into her mouth. At that
point, I filled my pajamas again and had to hide them under the bed with the pair
from Wednesday. I made a note to wash them after school the next day because I couldn't
rely on Mom missing the evidence again.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

When I came home at the usual time on Friday afternoon, Mom greeted me cheerily. I
went upstairs to get rid of my bag and change into my weekend grungies but stopped
as soon as I entered my room. My pajama bottoms were piled, neatly folded, on the
bed, although the rest of my laundry had been put away.

What did that mean? Was Mom sending a signal that she knew what I was doing and that
I should stop? My face went red. I was too embarrassed to go downstairs so I hung
around in my room playing video games but my heart wasn't in it. All I could think
of was Mom, whirling around the room in her sexy costume, midriff bare, legs pushing
through her skirt, eyes aflame. She would never dance in front of me like that again.
I just knew it! I banged my forehead with a fist. Why hadn't I whacked off in the
bathroom where I could flush the evidence away?

Reluctantly, I went downstairs when Mom called us for dinner. I couldn't look Mom
in the face but she acted as if nothing had happened and the embarrassment of the
crusty pajamas soon left my mind replaced by jealousy because Mom was particularly
cheery and attentive to my father.

"So, I made a reservation at Milo's tomorrow night," Mom said when the conversation
hit a lull.

"Milo's," Dad said. "Isn't that the Greek place?"

"Yes," Mom seemed very pleased.

"I hate Greek food," Dad complained.

"No you don't, dear. You've had it before and said you liked it."

"I have?"

"Yes. Remember, at the Carson's"

"Oh, then. I was just being polite."

"Well, then you were being very polite."

"Yes, but I didn't like it very much and it's worse at a restaurant. Half the time
they have middle-aged women, who should know better, dancing around your table while
you're trying to eat. Disgusting."

The conversation stopped dead. I could see Mom was hurt and trying not to cry. I tried
to lighten things up but Dad ignored my comments and blithely continued denigrating
Greek food and belly dancing while Mom sat silent, eyes cast down. I wished I could
have taken a round out of my father right then.

I didn't sleep well that night but it wasn't from spanking the monkey. I felt bad
for Mom. She had been taking lessons for at least a year if not more and had become
quite good, all for her husband, and he pissed all over her parade. Sure, he didn't
know it, but even if Mom did dance for him and he feigned appreciation, it wouldn't
be any good. Mom wasn't looking for sympathy, she wanted to put a spark back into
her marriage, and Dad's ignorant words had crushed her. I hated him for it.

I got up early the next morning even though it was Saturday. I wanted to cheer Mom
up but she was still in bed. Dad had already eaten and was getting ready to go out.


"Where's Mom?"

"She's still in bed. She's not feeling well."

"What's wrong with her?"

"I don't know. Maybe one of those woman things." Dad smiled at me and opened the door.
He left.

I made myself some toast and ate it with a tall glass of orange juice. After breakfast,
I watched TV for an hour, waiting for Mom to come downstairs but she didn't so I made
some more toast and took it upstairs with some juice.

"Mom?" I pushed the door to her room open an inch or so.

"Mom?"

There was no answer so I pushed the door another foot and looked in. Mom was lying
in bed, eyes open but listless. I carried the tray to her side of the bed and sat
down with it in my lap.

"I brought you some breakfast."

Mom looked at the tray without interest. "I'm not hungry."

"You should eat," I said, sounding like her when I was sick.

Mom shook her head when I put some toast near her lips but I persisted, like she did
with me when I was sick, and eventually she took it into her mouth, chewing slowly
and without relish despite the layer of her favorite jam, blackberry current.

As Mom ate, life began to stir within her. Her glacial, listless chewing became stronger
until she was biting the toast with anger. Good, I thought, get mad at the bastard.


When the toast was gone, Mom was determined if not happy. She told me to leave so
she could get dressed but flung the covers back right after I got off the bed and
before I had even turned around. Her warm body filled the knee-length nightgown and
her breasts jostled enticingly beneath the bodice. I shook my head and turned away,
angry with myself. I would never see Mom belly dance again and I was glad of it. I
was ashamed of my thoughts and the way I had looked at her, and especially of what
I imagined and did at night in my room. To think Mom had cleaned those filthy pajamas.
Oh God, I vowed to make it up to her.

"Mom?"

Mom turned her head slightly my way. Her back was to me and she was stepping into
a skirt that she slid up under the nightgown. She turned, and her breasts thrust against
the nightgown as the flimsy material twisted around her torso.

"I, uh, I..."

"Spit it out, Curtis."

Mom started to pull the nightgown over her head, then realized what she was doing,
and let it settle back onto her breasts which were obviously not covered by anything
else. I looked down, afraid that I couldn't keep my gaze off her womanly assets.

"I'll take you out for Greek food."

"What?"

"I'd said, I'd like to take you to that Greek restaurant."

Mom smiled. "Oh, you would, would you?"

I didn't see what was so funny and said so.

"Are you interested in Greek food, or belly dancing?"

I blushed. "Dad said they only had old women there."

"He said middle-aged women, like me, but no matter. Your father doesn't know what
he's talking about. I'm sure the dancers are much younger."

"Anyway," I said, "I'd like to go with you."

"Alright then," Mom said defiantly. "Let's you and I go out for dinner and your father
can fend for himself."

Mom suggested I cut the lawn and clean up the garage so Dad wouldn't have anything
to complain about if he came home after we left and found us gone. As it was, Dad
came home before we left. Mom informed him we were going out for dinner to the Greek
restaurant. He wasn't upset. In fact, while Mom was upstairs getting dressed, he thanked
me for getting him off the hook and gave me a hundred dollars to pay for dinner.

Mom came downstairs with one of her dress coats already on. Although the coat covered
her from shoulders to below her knees, I could tell she had dressed up by the shoes
she was wearing and was glad that I had put on a sports jacket and tie. Mom had also
put her hair up which she only did when she and Dad went to their company Christmas
parties. She looked nice with her hair up.

"We won't be late," Mom said as she pecked Dad on the cheek.

"Take your time and enjoy yourself," Dad replied, already aiming the remote at the
TV.

A strange excitement surged upward from the knot in my stomach as I closed the door
behind Mom and ran to open the car door for her. I had never gone out for dinner alone
with Mom and it felt oddly like a date.

Stop that nonsense, I chided myself.

Mom thanked me for opening the door and as she swung her legs into the car the coat
briefly parted to her knees without revealing a dress underneath. She provided directions
to the restaurant. I became progressively more anxious on the way there, my mind straying
to thoughts of just how short Mom's dress was instead of concentrating on what she
was saying.

What's the matter with you? I asked myself.

When we got to the restaurant, I had only a vague notion of what Mom had been talking
about. She waited for me to come around to open the door for her which strengthened
the sense that we were on a date and made me feel that I was in a small way making
up for my inappropriate thoughts and Dad's callous ignorance. As we climbed the steps
up to the restaurant Mom told me the reservation was in our name. This was obvious,
of course, but I realized Mom was telling me, as the man, to handle the interaction
with the hostess.

Before leading us to a table the host asked Mom if she wanted to check her coat. When
she removed it, I sucked in my breath. Mom was wearing a shimmery green dress that
molded to her figure. It was cut quite low in front and though her back was covered,
her arms were bare. It was a simple but elegant affair and I felt proud walking behind
Mom as the host led us to our table amid admiring glances from both men and women.


The food was exceptionally good and we followed it up with baklava for dessert and
Mom insisted that I order ouzo. Mom smiled at both my nervousness and pride when the
waiter didn't ask for my ID. She reached out and put her hand over the back of mine.


"You did that well."

That made me feel even better. I was supposed to be making her feel better and here
she was making me feel like a man instead. I loved it.

As we ate baklava and sipped ouzo, a very attractive older woman swept into the small
dance floor with a flourish to the center of the room.

"Watch this," Mom whispered. "She taught our class a few times. She's a fantastic
dancer."

"Milo's is proud to present Lady Alexandra," the host announced as the music started.


Lady Alexandra began to dance, moving slowly. She was wearing a multi-colored top,
not much more than a fancy bra actually, above a fine mesh skirt slit to the hip on
the left side that barely covered a plain brown bikini bottom. Jewelry and bracelets
adorned her fingers, wrists and ankles. By her face, I judged that Lady Alexandra
was about fifty but her body looked like that of a much younger woman, and one in
extremely good shape at that.

"Doesn't she look wonderful?" Mom said.

"Yeah," I replied and Mom laughed at my obvious appreciation of Lady Alexandra.

"I guess your father doesn't know what he's missing," Mom said as Lady Alexandra undulated
across the floor, the trinkets circling her waist tinkling, her stomach a constantly
moving canapé of flesh and shadows.

"Let's not tell him," I whispered.

Mom reached out and put her hand on mine again which set my arm a-tingle. "Yes, let's
not," she said.

I was aware, even elated, that Mom and I had just become partners in a conspiracy,
however minor or innocent.

Lady Alexandra alternated between rapidly shimmying her hips as she spun around the
dance floor to slowly undulating her body across it. Catching everyone by surprise,
she dropped into an amazingly low dip that exposed her entire, well-muscled left leg
before rising up with sharply arched back and breasts thrust skyward, only to launch
into a second lunge toward another table. To my delight, this and similar choreographies
were repeated many times.

Near the end, Lady Alexandra dropped backwards to the floor and lifted herself with
hands and feet enabling a reverse crawl, pushing her breasts up and moving in a way
that transformed her belly into a continuous, rippling wave. Every aspect of her body,
including her long wavy blonde hair, was employed to suck her audience into the mystery
of her world. She was absolutely mesmerizing.

When the dance ended, Mom squeezed my hand which startled me because I hadn't realized
until than that she had held it throughout the dance.

"You see what I'm up against?" Mom gasped.

"You could be better," I blurted, then quickly looked away because I knew Mom would
be able to see in my eyes why I believed what I had inadvertently said.

Mom squeezed my hand before withdrawing hers. "That's sweet of you to say."

Lady Alexandra received an enthusiastic round of applause and started to leave the
dance floor but she stopped when she saw Mom and then walked straight to our table.


"Lisa, so nice to see you."

"Hello Carol," Mom responded.

Lady Alexandra looked at me. No way this woman could be named Carol, I thought.

"This can't be your husband." Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Does he know?"

Mom laughed. "Carol, this is my son, Curtis. Curtis, meet Carol, or Lady Alexandra."


I stood up and extended my hand. "The pleasure is all mine."

"Oh, a gentleman, and so handsome too."

"Yes, he certainly is."

"Is your husband away?"

A troubled expression crossed Mom's face. "No, but I don't think he'll be coming.
He's not a fan of Greek food or, apparently, of belly dancing."

"Oh, how sad…for him."

"Yes," Mom said, either not trying or failing to hide her disappointment.

"But surely you're not going to quit? Oh, you can't, you're simply too good to stop
now."

"That's what I said," I interjected.

Lady Alexandra smiled at me and quickly looked back at Mom. "You see? You have the
best audience you can have, an adoring son. You should dance for him, and then dance
for me, right here." Carol swept her hand around in a wide arc.

Mom looked down, color flushing her face. I blushed too.

"Ah, so you've already danced for him." Carol looked at me again, a knowing smile
accompanying a pleased expression that regarded me for a longer moment. "I used to
dance for my son. I still do, when he comes to town." A wistful look took over her
face and she looked at Mom again. "You can't get a more appreciative audience than
your son."

I imagined this sexy woman dancing for a handsome Greek Adonis, young but blonde like
herself, pushing herself off the floor, undulating her belly and grinding her pelvis
in simulated love-making, then pictured Mom doing the same for me.

"You'll encourage your mother, won't you Curtis?"

I nodded earnestly, looking at both Mom and Lady Alexandra, hoping the oily image
of Mom's sinewy body was not visible through my eyes.

"There, you see?" Carol placed her long fingers under Mom's chin and raised her head.
"You won't disappoint your fans, will you?"

A moist hint of tears had gathered in the corner of Mom's eyes. "No, I guess not.


"Good. You're a very promising dancer. It would be selfish of you to stop now. Wouldn't
it Curtis?"

Lady Alexandra didn't look at me but rather held her gaze steadily upon Mom.

"Yes, it would," I affirmed.

"Too right," Carol said. "Listen, come back to see me before you go."

With that, Lady Alexandra swept away and every male eye, including my own, followed
her out of the room.

"Quite something, isn't she?" Mom said, dabbing her right eye.

"Yes, and she obviously thinks you're quite something too."

"Oh, she's just being nice."

"I don't think so."

Mom didn't reply and we finished our baklava and ouzo in silence. I grabbed the bill
when it came but blanched when I saw it was more than the hundred dollars Dad had
given me. Mom saw my consternation and took the bill from my hand.

"This is my treat," she said.

"But Dad gave me a hundred dollars to pay for dinner."

"Then you keep it."

"But Mom…"

"Do as I ask, please."

The waiter directed us to a room in back and knocked. After opening the door and ushering
us inside, he left. Lady Alexandra was sitting in front of a mirror removing her make-up.
The fine mesh skirt had been removed and all she was wearing was the multi-colored
top and plain brown bikini bottom, or panties, really, now that I could see them close
up. Her breasts bulged from the sides of the top.

"Oh Lisa." She stood up to greet Mom. "Here, I want you to take some of these costumes
home."

"Oh, no. I couldn't."

"Nonsense. It`s best to look the part when you practise."

Lady Alexandra stepped over to a long rack and pulled out three costumes, holding
each in turn against Mom.

"Perfect," she said for the first one, then, "Sexy," and "Divine."

"You'll look fabulous in these, won't she Curtis?"

That was the first time she acknowledged my presence. I nodded. Lady Alexandra tossed
the costumes on the chair.

"Oh, I have just the thing. Here, try this one."

She pulled a fourth costume off the rack.

"This was my son's favorite. Try it on."

"What?" Mom cried.

"Hold this Curtis," Lady Alexandra said, handing me the skimpy costume.

Lady Alexandra reached around Mom's neck and deftly unhooked her dress, then quickly
ran the zipper down Mom's back.

"Carol!" Mom exclaimed.

"Oh, don't worry about Curtis. He doesn't mind, do you, Curtis?"

I shook my head, my gaze quickly surveying Mom's body, increasingly exposed as Carol
pushed the dress over Mom's hips and let it fall around her legs in a heap on the
floor. My mouth went dry as my gaze fastened on Mom's ample breasts which were barely
contained by a thin, half-cupped bra. My peripheral vision caught sight of the thin
straps that hooked over Mom's hips, hardly looking strong enough to hold up the two
tiny triangles, one in front and another behind, that purported to be panties. Wow!


Lady Alexandra quickly wrapped the semi see-through skirt of the costume around Mom's
waist, concealing the wondrous vision of Mom's lower body which was more gorgeous
than I had imagined even in my dreams. Lady Alexandra twisted Mom around to face me.


"Isn't she beautiful?"

"Yes," I confirmed, through my constricted throat.

I meant it and Lady Alexandra could see I meant it. She smiled at me with that knowing
look in her eyes, and this time, I didn't look away. Mom, who had at first averted
her eyes, looked squarely at me.

"Will you help your mother?"

I looked at Mom and nodded, not quite sure what I was agreeing to.

"Would you be your mother's audience, let her dance for you in full costume?"

I nodded more eagerly.

"Of course you would, Lady Alexandra laughed. "What son wouldn't help his mother?"


Lady Alexandra spun Mom around to face her. "Let's get you dressed." She muttered
to herself, referencing my father, "He must be blind to ignore such a woman," followed
by "Doesn't he know that a woman needs to be appreciated?"

She unwrapped the skirt and threw it onto the chair with the rest of the costumes.
Mom stood before me, dressed only in the tiny, triangular panties and the skimpy bra,
her eyes cast down but standing behind her, mine were free to roam.

"Pull her dress up, Curtis," she instructed.

I looked at the dress that still piled in a circle around Mom's feet.

"Curtis," Lady Alexandra prompted.

I knelt on the floor behind Mom and started sliding the dress up her legs, following
it as it rose only inches in front of my nose. Suddenly, I was looking right at Mom's
behind, at the crack between her cheeks extending above the waist band of the tiny
panties which barely covered half her bottom, and the lower swells of her buttocks
sweeping in to merge with the curve of her waist. Wonderful!

My hands contacted Mom's warm skin as I pulled the dress over her hips and then against
the side of her breasts when I pulled it higher. I paused there, unintentionally,
as I stood up and Lady Alexandra smiled over Mom's shoulders. She knew I wasn't thinking
about Mom the way a son should but, surprisingly, her eyes twinkled encouragement.
She took hold of Mom's dress and fit the bodice better around her breasts.

"Be careful with the zipper, Curtis. This is fine dress and we don't want to break
it by going too fast, now do we?"

"No ma'am," I agreed.

I fumbled nervously with the zipper, nestling as it was on top of Mom's buttocks.
I could sense Lady Alexandra grinning over Mom's shoulder. I pulled the zipper up
very slowly, not wanting to draw her wrath and enjoying the smooth expanse of Mom's
unblemished back and the tantalizing groove that gave way to the little bumps of her
spine. I was disappointed when the zipper finally reached its destination. Lady Alexandra
started to reconnect the hook at the neckline but Mom's right foot twisted under and
she missed.

"Hold her still," Lady Alexandra said.

Tentatively, I put my hands on Mom's waist. As Lady Alexandra continued to struggle
with the clasp—suprisingly for someone who had disconnected it so deftly—my fingers
closed tighter around Mom's waist until I was holding her firmly. My hands emphasized
the contrast between her narrow waist and the buttocks that flared out behind it.
I looked up into Lady Alexandra's waiting, amused eyes.

"I think we're ready now," she said, stepping away from Mom.

I held Mom's waist for a few seconds longer, then reluctantly let go and stepped back
myself.

Lady Alexandra put the costumes into a large bag and handed it to me.

"Take these home for your mother and make sure she uses them."

As we left, Lady Alexandra grasped Mom's hand and held her so that she was last out
the door. She whispered in Mom's ear but not so quietly that I couldn't hear.

"I loved dancing for my son, Lisa. He brought out the best in me and that made me
feel so wonderful inside."

I turned in time to see Mom nod.

We drove home in silence, each consumed with our own thoughts. I didn't dare say anything
about what had happened but my head was filled with Mom's surprisingly sexy body and
images of her dancing the way Lady Alexandra had…but for me.

Mom was so quiet, I thought she was angry but when I opened the door for her she looked
up and smiled. She swung her legs out, allowing the coat to part and expose her legs
high above the knee.

"Thank you, sir," Mom said, when I shut the car door. She leaned toward me and stretched
up to give me a kiss on the cheek. "I really enjoyed myself tonight. It was a wonderful
date."

Later that night, when I was alone in bed, those words rang in my head and, despite
my earlier resolve, my hand found my cock as the vision of Mom's supple body filled
my mind. My hands encircled Mom's naked waist to hold her firmly in position for my
hard cock which bumped into her bare ass and then slipped sideways to nudge between
her rubbery cheeks. I started to come.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sunday morning I went to church with my parents which I hadn't done for almost nine
months, ever since I turned eighteen and they said I could make my own choice about
religion. Dad was pleasantly surprised but Mom was even more pleased, and me, I was
confused about my own decision. With the evil thoughts that pervaded my mind and the
wicked actions of my hand at night while my head was full of my mother's naked body,
you'd think the last place I'd want to be was in the house of God. But here I was
sitting next to Mom, my hand on the bench between us, and hers squeezing it while
everyone sang hymns.

When we left the church, I held the car door open for Mom and felt strangely guilty
when Dad looked at me strangely, as if he knew I was entertaining illicit thoughts
about Mom and that I was trying to catch a flash of leg. However, I was mistaken.
Mom seemed pleased by my chivalrous action but there was no flash of leg and Dad complimented
me for being a gentleman.

At home, I jumped out of the back seat to open the door for Mom, scrambling to get
there before she did it for herself, but the rush was unwarranted because she waited
patiently for me. Dad had already closed his door and started for the house. This
time there was a flash of bare leg, which I'm sure was accidental, but the appearance
of bare thigh above Mom's stockings incapacitated my lungs and I held the door open
for a good five seconds after she was out of the car.

Inside, Dad had gone straight upstairs to get changed. Mom was waiting for me to help
with her coat. She spun out of the sleeves so close that her blouse brushed against
me, and said thanks in a low voice that sent a thrill coursing through my body.

I followed Mom into the kitchen and watched her prepare lunch instead of changing
out of my good clothes. Like Dad, Mom usually changed as soon as she came home from
church so it was little surreal for us both to be in the kitchen, well-dressed and
alone. Mom smiled when she saw that I had followed her into the kitchen. Several times
she noticed me watching her and each time she smiled again. We didn't speak.

Just before we heard Dad coming downstairs Mom walked toward me from the far side
of the kitchen, or I should say, she danced toward me, holding her arms above her
head and swaying her hips from side to side, emitting a low chuckle with each twist.
She stopped when she heard Dad's footsteps and I started to believe that Mom might
actually dance for me as Lady Alexandra had suggested.

Dad was clomping down the stairs when Mom stepped close and stretched up to brush
her lips in a light kiss on the edge of my jaw.

"You should go upstairs and get changed," she whispered.

I did as Mom asked, passing Dad as he entered the kitchen.

"There's a sandwich for you on the counter," Mom said.

I heard her follow me up the stairs but I didn't look back. In my room, I changed
into a t-shirt and jeans and started back downstairs to get a sandwich for myself
but as I passed by Mom's open door I stopped dead in my tracks.

Mom was surveying the costumes Lady Alexandra had given her, all laid out side by
side on the bed. Mom had removed her suit jacket and shoes but was still wearing the
dressy white blouse and skirt from her suit. She turned and looked at me. I blushed,
embarrassed at being caught spying on her, but Mom smiled and motioned for me to join
her. She continued to look pensively at the costumes while I waited at her side. I
figured she was going to ask my opinion about which one to wear but didn't waste time
looking at them: any would do as far as I was concerned.

I was glad Mom was studying the costumes so intently because it allowed me to observe
the state of her dress. The white blouse was completely unbuttoned though the back
was still tucked into Mom's skirt. It seemed Mom's attention had been caught by the
costumes when she was in the middle of getting undressed. I was looking right at Mom's
breasts, encased in a bra that was hardly more substantial than the skimpy one she
had worn at dinner the night before.

"Which one do you think suits me?"

"All of them," I croaked.

"Don't be nice. Tell me the truth."

"I am," I said defensively.

"Then which one do you think I'd look best in?"

I pointed to the green and gold one.

"Why that one?"

"Because it's like the dress you wore at dinner."

"Oh yes. I love that dress."

Mom picked up the costume and held it in front of her, pressing it to her body which,
unfortunately, covered her breasts.

"You like that dress too, don't you?"

"Yes. You look beautiful in it."

Mom flashed me a smile. "Why, thank you Curtis. Should I wear it next time we go out?"


"Next time?"

"Yes, next time. Your father won't take me to Milo's and I'd like to see Carol dance
again."

"Sure, the green dress would be nice."

"And you'd also like to see Carol…I mean Lady Alexandra, dance again, wouldn't you?"


My face started to color and I answered quickly so Mom would look away.

"Yes."

"Well, alright then. Next week we'll go to see Lady Alexandra together, and I'll wear
the green dress."

I started to leave, thinking Mom was done with me.

"Curtis?"

"Yes," I turned around. "Is your father still eating his lunch?"

"I guess so."

"Hmmmm. Well, since he's busy, tell me what this skirt looks like."

Before I could answer, Mom turned toward me and slid the skirt down to hold it in
front of her suit skirt but I had a hard time looking at it because I was staring
at her chest. The skimpy bra did little more than lift Mom's breasts into prominence.


"What do you think?" Mom asked, unaware of my predicament.

"I, uh, I…"

"Hmmmm. It is hard to choose, isn't it?"

Mom pushed the green and gold mesh skirt into my hands.

"Hold this for a minute," she said.

And then I was watching, stupefied, as Mom unzipped her skirt and let it slide down
her legs. She was standing in front of me in an unbuttoned blouse, skimpy bra, and
a pair of panties. I was so stunned, I just stared, open mouthed until Mom prompted
me.

"The skirt, Curtis."

My reaction was sluggish. My eyes were glued on the front of Mom's panties and the
prominent, swollen-looking mound they covered.

"The skirt, Curtis," Mom repeated, holding out a hand.

Numbly, I handed Mom the skirt and she stepped into it, spun around, frowned, peeled
her blouse off, then twirled around again. Mom danced around the room, returned, and
twirled around me in a close circle, laughing. She ended with a flourish in front
of me, one hand on her hip and the other pushing her hair up the back of her head,
laughing softly.

"It works, doesn't it?"

I nodded. Mom dropped her hand and said, "You'd better go downstairs and get a sandwich
before your father eats them all."

At the door, Mom called me again.

"Curtis, do you still have a free period on Tuesdays and Thursdays?"

I nodded again because my throat was still too swollen to let words pass. Mom had
dropped the skirt and was bending over the costumes on the bed, facing away from me,
panties stretched across her ass so tightly I could see the shadow defining the crack
between her cheeks and the outline of each buttock. A sharp twinge bashed my cock
against my jeans and, realizing I was quite hard, I bent forward slightly to relieve
the pain.

Mom couldn't have seen me nod so I answered her before she turned around and caught
me gawking. "Yes Mom."

I waited for a response but Mom didn't seem in a hurry to answer. Instead, she fiddled
with the costume until it aligned perfectly with the others while the globes of her
ass twitched under the thin material of her panties. Finally, Mom answered without
looking at me which was good because I was still ogling her behind with an enormous
bulge in my pants.

"That's good."

Her response acknowledged that Mom knew I was still there. For the rest of the day
I could barely contain my excitement about the fact that she knew I was still there
as she bent over the costumes. I had no idea how I was going to make it through Monday
and Tuesday morning.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I ran home Tuesday afternoon to a house with drawn drapes and muffled music drifting
through the walls. I had become hard on the run home but that sound tightened my pants
even more. I almost burst through the back door but stopped to compose myself before
entering, dropped my backpack on the kitchen table, and quietly took up a post in
the kitchen doorway.

Mom was dancing to a fast song, shimmying rapidly around the living room with arms
flailing and body twirling. When the song ended, Mom whooshed to a stop, laughing
and panting in the middle of the room.

"You missed a good one," she cried.

Mom was wearing the green and gold costume with gold bracelets on each wrist and both
ankles. She had snakelike "tattoos" drawn down the length of her arms and dragon-like
forms painted on the outside of her thighs and smaller serpents creeping up the inside.


The next song started and Mom padded barefoot toward me, moving languidly with the
music. She pulled me into the middle of the room, dropped my hands, and started dancing
around me, near but not touching. I smiled encouragingly and twisted my neck to follow
her around as far as I could before snapping my head back to catch her as she danced
into view from the other side.

At first, my eyes stayed on Mom's, but as the dance progressed, I forgot myself and
let my gaze caress her arms, breasts, belly and legs. I tried to maintain a sense
of decorum but soon dispensed with the pretense, especially when Mom swooped nearer
and nearer. She didn't actually touch me, but her rushing proximity made me feel as
if she had, leaving my whole body tingling with her intoxicating presence.

My cock had begun swelling when I first saw Mom in the costume so I was really hard
now. I didn't even fell guilty because no man could remain flaccid in this situation.
I regarded the display of my male appreciation as a measure of Mom's skill as a dancer.
It was as if it was okay to have a huge hardon when she was dancing because it wasn't
for my mother, it was for the dancer, and I felt Mom would understand that and not
hold it against me. So I openly devoured Mom's body with enraptured eyes and let the
bounty of my feast express itself in my jeans, occasionally pumped by the whirling
rake of Mom's eyes across the front of my pants. Rather than feeling sheepish, I felt
proud of my ability to support Mom the way Lady Alexandra suggested I should.

It was a long song but I hated to hear it end. Mom whirled to a stop in front of me,
breathing harshly. She came closer and I put my arms out, thinking she wanted a hug,
but she retained her distance and I let my hands settle on her shoulders. The next
song didn't start then as I expected it to; the CD was finished. Mom leaned closer
and tilted her head forward until it touched my chest. I waited for her to capture
her breath and played with the hair cascading over her shoulders.

After a minute or two, I realized that, with her head tilted forward like that, Mom
must be looking right at the bulge in my jeans. In the heat of the dance, I had thought
my bulge expressed my support and appreciation of Mom's skill but now I wasn't so
sure she would take it that way and discomfort nagged my mind.

Abruptly, Mom pushed herself away and turned toward the CD player, reaching for its
remote. A new, very slow song started. Mom turned back and approached me. I held out
my arms, thinking she wanted to resume her position, but she stepped between my outstretched
hands and pushed me on the chest with flattened palms. I stumbled back, surprised.
Mom pushed again, and then again. The back of my legs hit the couch and I fell upon
it. Mom laughed and backtracked to the middle of the room. She sank to the floor on
her back and remained still for several seconds, then slowly began to move.

Mom barely twitched at first but then her hands and feet, and soon her arms and legs,
also acquired motion. She was starting a floor routine, like Lady Alexandra had briefly
done in her performance.

Mom arched her back and lifted her behind off the floor. Stretched from head to heels
off the carpet, Mom's body began wriggling like a snake. Her belly became a fascinating
receptacle of light and shadow and I appreciated just how appealing a woman's pelvis
can truly be, soft and round one moment, flat, hollow and edgy the next, spreading
into hips that withdrew and then suddenly thrust upward before spreading and dissipating
in waning ripples, only to become freshly delineated to do it all over again.

Mom's body was lifting higher and higher from the floor, something which took me a
few moments to notice. Another thing which I didn't realize at first was that Mom's
feet, initially pointing off to my right, were slowly moving around to point right
at me. Soon, I was looking directly between Mom's legs, fully exposed because the
mesh panels had fallen to the sides, except for the center one that masked the skimpy
panties which I knew were Mom's only cover under the skirt.

My God, the way she moved. Muscled calves and tensed thighs, breasts arched above
her rippling tummy, and below the mesh-covered panties blanketed the prominent mound
I had so eagerly witnessed when Mom first asked me what I thought of the costume.
God, I wished I could see that panty-covered mound now.

Mom threw her body around, swooping low to the right and swinging up and around to
the left in a violent, longitudinal quake. Faster and harder she twisted her body
until, with a final frantic lunge, she dropped low and stopped.

I stared, waiting for Mom to move or even relax upon the rug, spent and finished,
but she did neither. Long seconds passed and then Mom twitched. I leaned forward,
my gaze intense. The muscles on Mom's left thigh flickered and the serpent drawn there
rippled down the length of her leg. Again, she was still. Then the muscles along Mom's
right thigh twitched, exciting the snake there and then, once more, she was still.


I almost cried out in glee when I saw that the central mesh panel had disappeared.
I leaned far forward, gawking. Where had it gone? There, it had slipped over the outside
of Mom's left leg and now her panties were fully exposed. As I watched, Mom's legs
twitched again, and again, first the left, then the right, and then both together,
the dancing asps pointing toward their evil home. With each twitch, Mom's legs parted
more but after a dozen twitches, they stopped.

Mom's hips rolled in a small oval from side to side. At first, I observed the muscles
in Mom's thighs under the serpents as her legs changed position to accommodate the
motion of her pelvis but then my gaze shifted onto her panties. That luscious mound
described a smaller path perfectly matched to that of the outer appendages. I scrutinized
it so closely my head actually jerked back when Mom suddenly thrust her hips up and
paused, holding her mound at the apex before allowing it to relax and then sharply
thrusting it upward several times in quick succession in the universally recognized
motion for making love.

As Mom continued her "dance", my hand was unable to stay away and settled upon the
bulge of my appreciation. For all intents and purposes, Mom was air-fucking in front
of me, her panties damp and glued to her feminine charms, clearly displaying a groove
beneath the swollen mound above.

It wasn't long before I unloaded in my pants. I wanted to escape upstairs after that
but the song ended and Mom settled onto the rug. Slowly, her legs closed and she sat
up in a fluid motion, drawing her knees up to her chest and tucking her crossed feet
close to the bottom of her thighs. She clasped her arms around her legs and leaned
her head over her knees.

"What do you think?"

"Awesome," Mom, I replied, pulling my feet up onto the couch and grasping my own knees
in an effort to cover up the effect she had upon me.

"I love doing floor work," Mom said.

"You're very good at it," I commented, demonstrating my ability for understatement.


"You think so? I can't tell if I'm stretching up too high, or if my feet are too far
apart."

The way Mom looked at me, I could see she expected a response. After all, I was playing
the role of audience and critic.

"Um, it looked pretty good to me."

"Really?"

I nodded but Mom didn't seem convinced.

"Can you help me some more on Thursday?"

"Sure."

"Good. I better change and get dinner on before your father comes home."

Mom twisted up into to a standing position, stepped close to me and leaned down to
give me a kiss.

"Thanks," she said in a husky whisper before drawing away and casually walking upstairs.


Dad wasn't due for at least an hour so I wondered if Mom knew what had happened to
me and was withdrawing early to let me escape without further embarrassment. I looked
down into my lap and saw that she couldn't have not noticed my predicament when she
leaned over to give me a kiss. I rushed upstairs to my room to clean up, partly horrified
that Mom must know what had happened, and partly elated that she knew and wasn't mad.


That night, I filled my pajamas again.

Wednesday afternoon, my jeans and pajamas were neatly piled on my bed but all my other
laundry had been put away.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I ran home most of the way on Thursday but caught myself three quarters of the way
home. From there on I walked, though at a brisk pace. I didn't want to look out of
breath and overly eager. As on Tuesday, Mom was already dancing when I came in. I
started toward the center of the room but she shooed me toward the couch. I sat down
and surveyed her costume, this time blue and crimson, and we exchanged mutually pleased
smiles.

I was convinced that Mom and I had formed a bond wherein it was acceptable for me
to watch her the way I was. It didn't matter that she was my mother. She was a dancer,
and men were supposed to become aroused by a good-looking woman performing a sexy
dance. That is, if she was any good. So, when Mom caught me looking, it didn't matter,
I was simply appreciating the well-executed performance of a talented dancer. I let
my enthusiasm show. I wanted to flatter her and I couldn't disguise it anyway.

Mom performed several dances, each sexier than the last. Then, she settled back onto
the floor and I slouched down on the couch, my hand immediately covering my crotch
in eager anticipation but Mom didn't move. Ah, this was so hot. I could hardly wait
for her to begin. Abruptly, Mom lifted her head and looked at me. I was caught with
my right hand resting, not quite still, on my bulge.

Mom fixed her eyes on mine and said, "Come here."

"What?"

I didn't even have the presence of mind to remove my hand.

"Come here." Mom laid her head back on the rug. "I want you to do something for me."


I got up and walked over to stand beside Mom. "What do you want me to do?"

"Put your feet outside of mine," she said.

I straddled Mom and looked down at her.

"Now, stretch out above me, as if you were going to do push ups."

I did as mom asked.

"Okay. Stay there. I shouldn't go any higher than you."

Mom started 'dancing' beneath me with her eyes closed. I hadn't noticed this when
she did the floor routine before but then I couldn't see her face from where I had
sat on the couch. I hung my head so I could see Mom's body moving under me and hoped
she wouldn't make me stay in this position too long, not because it was tiring, but
because the view wasn't nearly as good as from the couch.

Mom gradually worked her routine up until she was moving quite vigorously beneath
me. Eventually, her knees knocked against mine, followed soon after by the brush of
her thighs. I stretched up on my toes to give Mom more room but that shifted me forward
and lower in the front causing Mom's breasts to scrape across my chest. I sucked in
my breath and straightened my arms but the middle of my body sagged and Mom's thighs
pressed harder against mine. They quickly withdrew but were back several gyrations
later.

"That's good," Mom gasped. "That's the right height. Stay there."

None of this made any sense to me, of course, but what did I care? Again and again,
Mom pushed her chest up, sometimes accidentally pressing against mine. Just as frequently,
or infrequently which would be a better description, her thighs rubbed on mine. Eventually,
I started to tire and my mid-section sagged, increasing the frequency and pressure
of contact and introducing something new: contact between our mid-sections.

Suddenly, I could have stayed braced upon my arms and feet atop Mom forever, for with
every second or third upsurge, Mom's panties knocked against my bulging jeans. Entering
the finale for the dance, Mom began thrusting upward in mimicry of the sexual act,
no doubt intentionally included by the choreographer for a rousing show. After the
shock of the first few bumps and rubs, I tentatively responded in kind, at first by
pure reaction and then hoping she either wouldn't notice in the heat of the dance
or would think I was simply returning to my proper position.

I thought I would only get a few rubs against Mom's thrusts but when she kept going
I realized this was a longer piece of music than the one on Tuesday. I tried, then,
to withdraw because I was really close to coming and knew unloading in my jeans above
Mom would be a disaster.

The dance went on and on and I stretched as high off the floor as I could but no matter
how far I drew back, Mom's pelvis still banged against mine. Finally, the song ended
and I collapsed upon Mom, prematurely pushing her onto the rug. While we lay there,
catching our breath, I erupted in my jeans. I tried to push up and away from Mom but
she threw her arms around me, preventing my escape and laughed joyously between gasps
for air. For a moment, her legs even curled around mine and her feet clasped the back
of my calves. All I could do was constrain my eruption to a muted, steady flow rather
than a series of rampant spurts.

I tried a last time to lift myself off Mom but I was too exhausted and didn't really
want to break contact. I gave up and simply tried not to press my swollen, damp genitals
into her soft heat.

After a long while, Mom said, "Get up, you big oaf."

I struggled up to give Mom some breathing space. I avoided her eyes, afraid I couldn't
hide the excitement I felt, and no longer thinking it was okay for me to show it,
at least, in its physical realization. Mom may have felt the same because both of
us started to speak, then each waited for the other to go first, started again and
stopped, and were about to give it another go around when Dad's tires squealed onto
the driveway. We scrambled to our feet and Mom literally flew up the stairs in her
costume. I had only managed to get halfway up the stairs when the door opened.

"Hi, I'm home," Dad announced.

I half-turned to acknowledge his greeting. "Hi Dad." I'm sure I looked sheepish right
then, like a little kid caught red-handed with his hand in the cookie jar. I kept
the evidence of my dipping turned away from my father.

"Why are the drapes closed?" he asked.

"I don't know. Maybe Mom forgot to open them this morning."

"Oh. That must be it."

Dad was still hanging his coat up when he shouted, "Ask your mother when dinner will
be ready."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Friday night, Mom and Dad went out for dinner and a play. I stayed home to watch a
movie instead of going out with friends but my attention kept shifting to the middle
of the floor where I had straddled Mom's weaving body. I touched myself and wished
she was here.

My parents were a little tipsy and in a good mood so I guessed the movie and play
combo had been a success and said as much.

"The dinner was great but the play was stupid," Dad said.

"It wasn't that bad," Mom chided him good-naturedly.

"It stank," Dad retorted.

"Well, you're in a surprisingly good mood then."

Dad waved off my comment and started up the stairs.

"You going to be long, honey?"

"No," Mom replied. "I'll be right up."

Mom disappeared into the kitchen but as soon as Dad topped the stairs she reappeared
and walked toward me, arms waving above her head and hips jogging in the opposite
direction to the sway of her arms.

"Your father took me dancing," she giggled.

I should have been happy for her but I wasn't. I was jealous. Nevertheless, I faked
it half-heartedly for her benefit.

"That's great, Mom."

"The play wasn't very good," Mom confirmed Dad's assessment. "We left early. Your
father felt so bad about making me leave that he took me to a dance club downtown.
Sugar Sweet, I think it was called, or maybe it was Sweet Sugar, or Sugar something.
Anyway, we danced for at least two hours. Oh my, your father's an awful dancer but
he did try."

"I'm glad you had a good time, Mom."

"Thanks, baby. Now give your mother a kiss goodnight before your father gets too impatient."


I didn't want to get up but Mom pulled on my hands so I stood up and gave her a peck
on the cheek.

"That's not a proper send off for your mother. Come here."

Mom pulled my head down and planted a wet kiss on my left cheek. I pulled back and
she stumbled forward, evidently a little tipsier than I had first thought. The press
of her full body against mine was almost too much to bear, given she was about to
go upstairs and make a gift of it to my father. I closed my arms around her in a symbolic
gesture of prevention. I really didn't want her to go. Mom turned her face up and
I kissed her, on the mouth.

I knew it was a mistake right away but couldn't make myself stop. In fact, I tried
to hold the kiss longer, afraid of Mom's reaction once I released her. Surprisingly,
Mom's arms tightened around my neck just as the kiss ended but I managed to pull away
a few inches.

"Curtis, you naughty boy," Mom laughed playfully. "Our date isn't until tomorrow night."


On that note, Mom turned and walked, unhurried and hips swaying, up the stairs. As
she neared the top, Dad called to her. Mom stopped and turned around, smiled at me,
and blew a kiss.

Their door was firmly closed when I went to bed a few minutes later. I paused in the
dark hallway and tortured myself by listening to the muffled sounds of their love-making.
It rapidly built to a crescendo and just as quickly died and I cursed myself for listening.
In the silent aftermath, I had to risk being heard as I moved on to my room but I
had to go in case one of them came out and found me there, listening in the dark.
I cursed when the floor creaked halfway down the hall. Had they heard?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I was passing by my parents room after dinner the next night.

"But we went out for dinner last night," Dad complained.

"Yes, and I had a lovely time, but I want to see my friend dance and you don't like
Greek food, or belly dancing. You said so yourself."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Watch TV."

"Nothing's on."

"Well, get a movie or something," Mom snapped.

Dad came out of his room and saw me going into mine. He changed direction and followed
me to my room.

"Did your mother force you into taking her out for dinner?"

"No, not really. I know she really wants to see her friend perform."

"You don't have to go, you know. I'll do it if it'll make her happy."

"Dad, you know she'll know that's what you're doing and it will make her mad."

Dad sighed. "I guess you're right. Well, I'm not made of money but if this is what
she wants."

Dad pulled out his wallet.

"I can pay for my own dinner Dad."

"Nonsense."

Dad handed me another hundred dollar bill.

"Make sure she has a good time. I'm a little beat anyway after last night."

"Okay, Dad."

I put my sports jacket and good slacks on and went to check on Mom to see if she was
ready. I knocked on her bedroom door but she didn't answer so I pushed it open and
stuck my head in, feeling a little guilty because I was secretly hoping to catch her
not quite fully dressed.

"Mom?"

"Curtis, you`re just in time. Come zip me up."

Mom was standing in front of her dresser mirror with her back to me. I walked up behind
her, noting with great pleasure that the green dress was zipped all the way down,
so far that I could see the upper swells of her buttocks and the skimpy panties stretched
across the divide between her cheeks. I felt a incredibly strong urge to slide my
finger into the forbidden crevice the panties stretched across. Guiltily, I raised
my eyes and traced a path up Mom's unblemished back, following the curve of her spine.
My breath caught when I realized Mom wasn't wearing a bra and, just at that moment,
my guilty eyes met her twinkling ones over her shoulder.

She spoke quietly, "Zip me up before I fall out of this thing."

I glanced lower upon her reflection in the mirror and saw the inner swells of her
breasts pressing against the dipping bodice of the green dress, too loose with the
zipper undone to hold her in. I looked quickly away and searched for the tiny zipper
at the base of the dress, my fingers fumbling against the bare skin of Mom's lower
back.

"You did insist I wear this dress," Mom muttered.

I knew she was teasing and I wasn't about to suggest she wear anything else. When
the dress was zipped up, Mom turned around and put both hands on my chest, palms down.


"Maybe you should go downstairs and bring up my good coat for me."

I didn't understand why at first, then quickly nodded. Mom smiled at my awkwardness.
When I returned with the coat, Mom was ready to go but as she walked toward me, reaching
for the coat, she muttered, "Damn these stockings!"

Mom sat on the edge of the bed and removed the stocking from her left foot. "Yup,
it's ruined and we haven't even left the house."

I approached the bed, admiring the leg which Mom held stretched out for a few seconds,
examining it closely, before lowering it to the floor. Mom held out her hand and took
the coat, then laid it on the bed beside her. She stretched out her right foot.

"Can you?" she asked.

I brought my leg close so Mom could rest her foot on my knee and bent over her leg
to search for the top of the stocking. I had to reach nervously under the hem of the
green dress to find it. Shaking inside, I pulled it slowly down Mom's leg and tossed
it away.

"Can you get my shoes for me? The green ones."

When I returned with Mom's shoes she was rubbing lotion on her legs, smoothing it
in until lit left a sheen on both her legs. I kneeled in front of her with the shoes.
Mom kept her legs demurely closed while I held the back of each ankle in turn and
pushed the shoes onto her feet. I loved touching her legs and feet.

After that, I helped Mom on with her coat and we left saying goodbye to Dad without
stopping. On the way to the restaurant Mom talked anxiously about seeing Lady Alexandra.
I didn't understand why she was so nervous and said so.

"She's so talented, and such a perfectionist, but she really is a nice dancer, isn't
she?"

"Yeah, she's interesting to watch."

"Her floor routine is fantastic. You hardly saw any of it. When she came to the studio,
the performance she put on was unbelievable."

"Oh." I didn't know what else to say. I was a little uncomfortable talking about floor
work given the way I had collapsed on Mom and soiled my pants. At first, I had been
unsure about how Mom had taken it because the next day she had been somewhat aloof
but later in the day she had warmed up. I had quickly forgotten my fear and assumed
that Mom was okay with what had happened and even encouraged it. Why else would she
get me to hang over her like that, push her body against mine, and then tolerate me
lying on top of her while I came in my pants?

"By the way. Don't tell Carol how badly I did with my floor routine."

"Badly?"

"Yes. She told me I should get you to brace yourself above me so I would have a good
sense of how far to move."

"I don't think you did badly. You hardly hit me at all until the end and that's because
I got tired and couldn't hold myself up very well."

Mom laughed. "That's just the point. Carol said I should be able to reach you whenever
I stretched up but I only managed it half the time, if that, and then only because
you got tired."

I was stunned. First, it was a revelation that Mom had only been trying to make contact
with me because Lady Alexandra had told her that was a good way to judge the right
distance to arch up from the floor. So much for my juvenile fantasy that Mom was trying
to come on to me. And second, Mom thought she had done poorly because at first I had
tried to keep away, pulling myself higher to avoid her discovering my raging boner.
The fantasy of another session of floor work with Mom, with her eagerly pushing her
swollen mound up to meet my engorged cock, crashed and burned.

Were all the teasing glances part of the schtick, too? Of course they were. I sank
into the seat of the car, embarrassed about my naivety and deflated, in more ways
than one.

Lady Alexandra introduced more floor work in her routine that night and, as Mom said,
it was pretty fantastic. Her performance was very sensual and, looking around the
room, I knew many of the men there would be having sex that evening and probably imagining
they were with Lady Alexandra, even the younger ones. The thought made me even more
depressed about Mom's revelation in the car.

I was so disconsolate that I barely noticed the jostling of Mom's breasts under the
green dress and when I did I only noted how far-fetched a notion it was that I would
ever be allowed to see them, let alone touch them.

Lady Alexandra stopped to chat but only briefly so I guessed a visit to the back room
wasn't in order. So much for the hope of ogling Mom's body again upon the introduction
of a new costume. My fear was confirmed when Carol joined us for dessert and coffee,
dressed in a sleek black dress.

To my surprise, when we were about to go, Lady Alexandra insisted we join her in the
back. Mom didn't protest and I followed along, somewhat cheered at the prospect of
being alone with these two women. I kidded myself that envious eyes were upon me as
we walked past several tables of Lady Alexandra's admirers but knew they were locked
on my sexy, older female companions.

On the way, Lady Alexandra was talking about the Dance of the Seven Veils which Mom
seemed to know about. Other than noting the name of the dance, my attention wandered.
I'm sure you can guess where. About to follow Mom into the room, Lady Alexandra blocked
my entrance.

"Sorry Curtis, but I want your Mom to try on the costume I use for the Dance of the
Seven Veils."

The door closed in my face. What a disappointing night. Mom was changing on the other
side of the door and I was stuck out here. There were titters on the other side which
didn't ease my chagrin in the least. I leaned back against the wall in the poorly
lit hallway and muttered to myself, loosing a few choice words every time I heard
a new round of titters.

The door opened suddenly. Lady Alexandra grabbed my arm and yanked me into the room.


"Carol!"

Lady Alexandra laughed heartily. Mom was standing in the middle of the small room
dressed in a costume completely constructed of veils, seven I presumed. The costume
was definitely designed to intrigue. It was clear that Mom was naked underneath. Her
womanly charms were obvious, but not easily seen even when one looked closely. I knew
Mom's breasts were free and bare because of the motion evident under the veils, yet
I could not see their form clearly no matter how hard I tried.

"You see how this costume grabs the male mind, what little of it there is?" Carol
laughed. "He can see, and yet he can't. It's as if you're fully dressed, but you're
not, or undressed, yet clothed."

Mom laughed nervously, becoming more at ease as she realized that what Carol said
was true. I blushed but kept looking at Mom. She laughed suddenly, no longer nervous,
and her eyes sparkled.

"Fun, isn't it?"

"No," I replied, feeling the victim.

"Oh, yes it is," Lady Alexandra said.

She stepped close to Mom, her back to me.

"Carol don't."

Lady Alexandra stepped aside, a veil in her hand. "Tell me where this came from, Curtis."


Mom looked nervous again but her anxiety was replaced with amusement when I looked
at her and it was plain I couldn't see where the veil had come from. They both tittered.


"This is why men are so mesmerized by the Dance of the Seven Veils. Even when you're
standing still, they can't see any better. Imagine how hard it is when you're moving?
Their eyes are riveted but they cannot see, and yet, the sense of sexuality is pushed
to the extreme."

Lady Alexandra tittered again and only the glance of Mom's lowered eyes told me why.
I moved my hands in front of myself when Lady Alexandra again stepped close to Mom.


"Carol, no. Really."

She stepped back, another veil in her hand. Though I couldn't identify from where
it had come, I could sense Mom's nakedness more acutely. Her breasts were more clearly
defined under the remaining veils and I was aware of the pout of her tummy and the
swoop of her waist as it flared out to join her hips.

"An icing of pure woman," Lady Alexandra mused. "You've the perfect body for this
dance, Lisa. You really must do it for the restaurant."

"Oh no. I couldn't," Mom protested.

"Of course you can. You're ready for the big time. Don't you think so, Curtis?"

The desire to see Mom dancing in this costume surged within me with a vengeance that
was hard to contain, resulting in a fresh burgeoning in my pants.

"Yes, I do," I said.

"You see?" Lady Alexandra said and, for an instant, I thought she was actually commenting
on my swollen reaction.

"I can't. I was simply terrible with the floor exercise. Tell her, Curtis."

"Actually, she was pretty good."

"Curtis!"

"It's true, Mom. You're very good and Lady Alexandra is right, you have the perfect
body, er, figure for it."

"He doesn't know what he's talking about, Carol."

Lady Alexandra stepped close to Mom again. "I think he knows exactly what he's talking
about."

"Oh my God, Carol stop."

Mom's hands flailed but it was no use. Lady Alexandra stepped back with a veil in
each hand.

"She is perfect, isn't she Curtis?"

I nodded, speechless.

"He's never even seen the dance performed."

"It doesn't matter. He's a man and he can see you."

Mom tried to cover herself up with her hands, like I had done, but Lady Alexandra
grabbed her left hand, stepped behind Mom to grab the right, and then held them both
stretched out by her sides.

"She's truly beautiful, isn't she Curtis?"

I looked at Mom and she closed her eyes, turning her head to the left and slightly
downward, blushing. The three veils did little to hide Mom's resplendent figure. I
could easily see the full contours of her heavy but not overly large breasts, how
swollen and round they were, ripe yet bouncy and upturned, capped by thick nipples
whose darkness showed prominently through the veil.

I lowered my eyes to the second veil that covered Mom's hips but was unable to conceal
the shapely legs underneath. And then there was the third veil, a tiny mini skirt
that barely covered the skimpy panties Mom had worn. In fact, there was no evidence
of that presence and my excitement grew as I became certain they weren't there.

"If you weren't her son, wouldn't you want her, Curtis? I mean, right now?" Lady Alexandra
demanded in a husky, urgent whisper.

"Carol!" Mom protested again, but she didn't open her eyes.

I nodded, my throat as constricted as my pants were congested.

"And even if she was your Mom?" Lady Alexandra persisted.

"Carol!" Mom's eyes flashed open.

"Yes," I croaked, my eyes briefly meeting Mom's before darting away.

"We have to go," Angrily, Mom shook her arms free of her friend's grasp.

Lady Alexandra laughed. "I was joking, Lisa. Don't be mad." She caught Mom's arm.
"Curtis, go outside now so your mother can get dressed."

In the hallway , I could hear Mom's anger subsiding as Lady Alexandra talked to her
in a soothing voice. My ears perked up when she said how lucky she was to have a son
like me, so much like her own, and that very few mothers are blessed to have such
a close relationship with their sons like she and Mom did. The voices lowered after
that and I couldn't make out what was said. Then the door opened and Mom emerged.


Lady Alexandra was finishing a sentence, "…dance for us next week, you promised."


Mom replied, "Uh huh," but didn't sound like she meant it. She smiled at me and said,
"We should get home, Curtis."

"Stop and take in the view of the city before you go home," Lady Alexandra suggested.
"The lights are beautiful at night."

"We don't have time," Mom answered.

"You should make time for life."

"Oh, all right. Just so you don't nag me next time."

Lady Alexandra laughed. "Don't be rough on the costume, it's delicate," she called
as Mom turned to lead us away.

"Good bye, Curtis. You're a true gentleman," Lady Alexandra said.

As I started to follow Mom, Lady Alexandra reached out to stop with a pull on my right
hand. I looked back at her and she smiled as she tucked something into my hand, then
pushed me onward. I looked down to see what it was and immediately blushed, glancing
around to see if anyone had seen, and was glad Mom was walking purposely to the door.
I stuffed the contents into my pocket. Lady Alexandra had pressed Mom's tiny panties
into my hand.

At the car, Mom waited for me to open the door and turned to look at me when I didn't.
I was struggling to get the keys out of my pocket, buried beneath Mom's panties, without
her seeing what I was doing. Mom quickly looked away. My face went red as I realized
she probably thought I was having difficulty because of the physical condition that
had been so evident when she was dressed in only the three veils.

I finally got the door open and Mom got in without displaying any leg. On the way
home, I took a detour through Fox Hill as suggested by Lady Alexandra, passing by
the upscale houses in the sweeping arc to the summit, and pulled over in the little
park there overlooking the city. Mom was surprised by the turn but didn't complain.
We gazed over the city without talking and, gradually, it's soothing beauty softened
the mood within the car.

"She's right. It is beautiful," Mom said.

"Mom…"

"Don't talk."

"But…"

"Shhhhhh."

For the first time ever, Mom slid across the seat toward me and cuddled up to my side,
leaning her head against my shoulder.

"A lot has happened the past week that should just be left alone, and best forgotten."


Mom tried to get comfortable but had difficulty with the raised floor in the middle
of the car so she put her feet into the well on my side. I worried about ominous portent
of her words paired with the unusual comforting snuggle. It seemed like Mom was about
to tell me playtime was over. Resigned, I put my arm around Mom's shoulder and bent
down to kiss the top of her head. I still loved her, no matter what.

However, my breath caught in my throat when I saw that Mom's coat had pulled open
and the green dress had been dragged high up on her thighs. Mom's panties, now stuffed
in my pocket and pressed against her hip, silently informed me about what lay hidden
and unprotected in the dark shadows of her skirt.

As Mom gazed out the front window over the city, I looked down between her slightly
parted legs and peered into the darkness, seeking the faint outline of her uncovered
womanhood. I knew I couldn't do any more than look, and then only with the greatest
discretion, but in my mind I reached inside and slid my hand along the soft inside
of Mom's legs until my fingertips touched the origin of my being.

I jerked my head up, afraid of losing control, and breathed in deeply, which was a
mistake because I immediately kidded myself that I had caught a whiff of Mom's musky
scent. I started to look down to confirm my suspicion but in the dark caught Mom's
eyes in the mirror, glinting from the city lights.

"It smells sweet, doesn't it?" Mom asked.

"What?"

"The spring air. You can smell it, can't you, even with the windows closed?"

"Uh, yeah. Through the vents, I guess."

"Open the window so we can smell it better."

I turned the key on and opened the driver's side window. The dash lights partially
lit the interior of the car and the radio bloomed with a gentle song. Startled, I
turned the key off, but not because of the sound.

The brief flash of the greenish dash lights had been enough to sear the image of Mom's
lightly haired pussy onto my retinas. I was afraid that even that minimal light would
call Mom's attention to the condition of her dress and she would push it down to a
more chaste position near her knees. I hazarded another glance into the depths of
Mom's skirt, knowing what was there and painting the image of it onto its proper place
in the darkness between her legs. I fixed it with a mental kiss and inhaled its scent
through flared nostrils.

"I like that song," Mom whispered, oblivious of my discrete worship.

She wiggled her head deeper into my shoulder and I pulled her closer, twisting her
upper torso until her left breast pressed against my chest. With Mom facing down,
I was free to gaze into the depths of her skirt without fear of detection.

"Do you want to listen to the radio?" I asked, my desire for the revealing dash lights
overcoming the fear that Mom would adjust her dress.

"Yes," Mom replied.

I turned the key back on. The car filled with soft music and the extra light bathed
the inside of Mom's legs in a greenish glow perfectly matched to the color of her
sexy dress. Deep inside, I detected a hint of the dark groove I had witnessed through
the mini-skirt veil, but mentally I shook my head. In this light it should be impossible
to see; it had to be my imagination.

"You'll always be there for me, won't you, Curtis?"

It was a strange question and I didn't know where it had come from or where it might
lead.

"Of course I will. You know that, Mom."

"Carol said she doesn't know what she would have done after her husband was gone.
I think I'd be at a loss too."

I kissed the top of Mom's head.

"They were very close."

"Hmmmm."

"Really close."

"How do you mean?"

I immediately regretted asking but at the same time waited eagerly for Mom's response.
The way Mom said it had caused a strange sensation to spread through my chest and
loins.

"I'm not sure. There just seemed to be something odd about the way they were together,
the way they spoke and looked at each other."

"What was he like?"

"I don't know, really. I only met him a few times before he moved away with his wife."


"You think there was something wrong?" As soon as I said that I wished I could take
it back. If Mom said 'yes', she might realize there was something wrong about the
way she was cuddled up to me.

"Not really. Anyway, it was good for Carol and she loves her son more than anything."


"Well, that can't be wrong."

"No, I guess not. He loved her too." Mom was quiet for a few seconds, then added,
"I love you more than anything, you know."

Mom turned her face up and waited for me to acknowledge what she'd said. Instead,
I leaned down to kiss her on the forehead but missed and hit her nose. Mom laughed
and so did I before trying again but she turned her face up more and I landed squarely
on her mouth.

We froze for a second, lips pressed together, unmoving, knowing this was unintended
and both of us a little shocked. I was about to pull away when Mom's lips moved slightly
on mine and I reacted, rubbing against hers. Several more furtive brushes turned into
a kiss.

When it ended, Mom whispered, "Well…"

I leaned down to kiss her again, hoping to choke off a potential rebuke.

It never came. After the second kiss, Mom whispered, "I'll always love you, no matter
what," and reached up to kiss me again.

We pressed our lips together more firmly but there was no still tongue action. I turned
Mom further toward me and twisted myself so I could bring my other arm around to hold
her. When we renewed the kiss, my hand slid down Mom's arm and onto the outside of
her right leg. It landed half on her dress and half on bare skin because of the extent
the skirt had ridden up Mom's thigh but her only reaction was to push her lips harder,
and more actively, upon mine. I negotiated my hand under Mom's dress and inched it
upward, between her legs.

Too fast, Curtis. Too fast.

The kiss took on a life of its own, partly fired by my desperation to keep Mom busy
while my hand slid along her inner thigh, so soft yet becoming warmer and rubbery
as my fingers crept deeper, nearing their goal.

Too far, Curtis. Too far.

But it was too late. Mom's hand clamped down upon mine, her legs squeezed together,
and her lips pulled away. She squared her shoulders against the back of the seat.


"Whew, those city lights are intoxicating," Mom sighed.

The tip of my longest finger had just managed to brush the fine hairs covering that
magic groove for the fleetest of moments but now Mom's legs relaxed and her hand eased
my arm away.

"Yes, they are," I responded.

It was an awkward, disappointing moment.

"I guess I got carried away," I continued, belatedly realizing Mom was trying to ignore
the transgression, to let it go without discussion as she had hinted earlier.

As I spoke, I used the opportunity to pull my hand the rest of the way out of Mom's
dress and turned away from her as I made an excuse for kissing her. Since I had commented
on the situation, I thought it would be better to openly acknowledge what had happened
and make an excuse for it.

"I forgot who I was with," I laughed. "It kind of felt like a date. Sorry, Mom."

"I didn't mind," she replied. A pregnant silence followed and I digested the fact
that the other thing that almost happened wasn't going to be mentioned.

"I got a little carried away myself," Mom said, flirting with the barrier of silence
that had been erected around what we both knew was too strange to discuss.

"Do you think Carol and her son kissed," I blurted, steering us back onto the course
that had originally led us onto such dangerous ground.

We were now both facing squarely out the front of the car. Mom pushed the shiny green
dress toward her knees.

"Yes. I actually saw them once when they thought they were alone. I've never forgotten
it."

"Wat happened? Was it something wrong?"

"Not wrong. Well, maybe a little bit, but they only had each other." Mom paused, then
added quietly, "They loved each other."

"I love you, Mom."

"I know sweetie, and I love you too."

"Even though it was an accident, I liked kissing you," I admitted sheepishly, unable
to leave well enough alone.

Mom didn't look at me but she answered right away, "I liked it too."

"I don't feel bad about it," I persisted.

"I guess it's alright…the kissing, I mean."

The awkwardness returned.

"Yes, of course, I meant the kissing."

It hung in the air between us that there was something else but we weren't going to
talk directly about it. Now I knew Mom had felt my touch.

"We could kiss again, sometime," I ventured.

"Yes," Mom replied quickly and I sensed she welcomed any topic that veered away from
where we were on the verge of going. "But not where someone can see us. People wouldn't
understand."

"I know."

My hand found Mom's and squeezed it. I was elated that permission to kiss Mom in the
future had been granted.

"We should go now," Mom said.

I tried to kiss Mom before we left but she turned her face away. I started the car.
It was a long drive home. I was wondering why Mom didn't want to kiss before we left.
Mom sat beside me all the way home and right into the driveway but I typically kept
imagining the worst case scenario that it wouldn't really happen again despite the
reassuring warmth of Mom's presence.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

To make things worse, Mom didn't dance the next week. On Tuesday, I arrived home to
an empty house. Mom didn't come home for hours and when she did the car was full of
groceries, something she always shopped for on Mondays to avoid the weekend crowds.
On Thursday, I didn't know where she was but she didn't come home until after Dad
arrived. Other than that, Mom treated me the same way she always did, except there
were no teasing dance moves in the kitchen when we were by ourselves.

One night I heard Mom deep in a hushed conversation on the phone in the kitchen. I
couldn't hear what she was saying but I knew who she was talking to. It was Carol.
Dad was in the living room so I couldn't stand out of sight by the kitchen door to
listen. I made an excuse to go back upstairs and went slowly, trying to catch as much
as I could as I went by the kitchen doorway.

"I know it isn't fair on him, Carol, but it's getting out of hand. I'll just have
to quit."

Shit. Mom was going to stop dancing for good?

"I know, but your situation was different."

"Why?" Big pause. "Well, maybe, but I'm not going to do anything like that."

"Well, I'm just not, that's why."

That was all I could get because I had stopped and Dad looked my way. For the rest
of that week I fell asleep wishing I had never put my hand up Mom's skirt. Why had
I done that? Why?

There were no soiled pajamas left around for Mom to washthat week.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

To my pleasant surprise, Mom started dancing again the following week. I sauntered
in and casually sat on the couch though I had been super eager when I heard the music
as I approached the house.

Mom was wearing the third costume that Carol had given her. I was a little disappointed
that it wasn't the one with the veils but was thankful that Mom was dancing, and letting
me watch, period. She could have danced in a big terry cloth robe and I would have
been happy.

The first dances were a mix of fast and slow ones with no floor routine and I wondered
if Mom was specifically avoiding doing that but then she did some dips and even a
bit of floor stuff. It started kind of milktoast but ended quite sexy.

When she was done, Mom did a startling thing. She got onto her knees and crawled across
the carpet toward me. It was very arousing. When she reached the couch, Mom rose up
on her knees and threw herself forward onto my lap, curling her arms around behind
me in a loose hug.

"I missed dancing. I love it so much," she gushed. "Thanks for watching, Curtis,"
she added, giving me a squeeze.

"No worries, Mom."

Tentatively, I put my hands flat onto Mom's shoulder blades and tried not to move.
I was extremely conscious of the fact that Mom's head was on my lap and the left side
of her face was lying squarely upon my boner.

"That feels nice," Mom said, wriggling her upper back.

I couldn`t agree more. I moved my palms around in a small circle on Mom's upper back
and barely stifled a groan when her face shifted on my cock. Mom sighed, lifting her
head and settling it back on my lap, wiggling as if she was enjoying the back rub
and trying to get more comfortable. Flashes of pure pleasure, mixed with fear, scorched
through my groin and up to my brain. If Mom kept doing that, I was going to come and
I wouldn't be able to hide it. Mom wiggled her head again and I stifled another groan.
I was saved by the sound of Dad's car in the driveway, but unlike before, Mom didn't
jump up to run for the stairs.

"Oh darn. Your father's home already." Mom sounded disappointed. She gave her head
a final wiggle and lifted it off my lap. Leaning back on her knees, Mom smiled at
me as her hands slowly slid from around my back and traced a path along the top of
my thighs.

"Thanks, sweetie."

Mom spoke as if I had done something really special. I nodded, not quite sure what
was going on and concentrating on keeping my pelvis from convulsing. I'm sure the
grin on my face looked more like I was gritting my teeth. The drag of her fingers
down my thighs was almost too much to bear. I was surprised that Mom made it all the
way up the stairs before Dad came in. She didn't seem to be in a hurry.

Later that night, I excused myself to go to bed early. I couldn't get Mom out of my
mind and I hadn't had a chance to do anything about it. Given the previous week's
abstinence, my balls were almost blue. I left Mom and Dad watching a movie and went
upstairs. I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth, already changed into my pajama
bottoms and robe, when the door opened and Mom slipped inside. She turned and closed
the door quietly but firmly, giving me the impression that we were about to have a
private discussion that couldn't wait.

"Mom," I mumbled, surprised, toothpaste frothing out of my mouth.

"Keep brushing your teeth," Mom replied, stepping behind me.

I looked up in the mirror as I bent over to spit out and saw Mom standing behind me,
smiling, but with a strange expression on her face.

"I was talking to Carol last week…," she began.

Oh, oh. I filled my mouth with fresh water and started brushing. I wanted to have
an excuse for not answering whatever she was about to ask. Mom put her hands on my
back, rubbed them in a big circle and brought them down my sides on the outside of
the thick bathrobe. She leaned her head onto me and laid her face sideways, left side
down, like she'd done earlier on my lap.

"Carol thinks you're a lot like her son."

Mom's hands rubbed my sides.

"Actually, she thinks you and I are a lot like her and her son."

Mom's hands rubbed my sides again and pushed around to my stomach, then tightened
to give me a squeeze.

"She says you're making a big sacrifice watching me dance, like her son did, and I
have to agree."

Mom hugged harder but, far from being pleased, it made me nervous because I was convinced
she was about to explain how that wouldn't be necessary any more. I tried to say that
it wasn't a big deal, that I enjoyed watching her, but the words came out in a frothy
set of bubbles. Mom ignored my gargle.

"Carol said she used to make it up to her son, and she thinks it's only fair that
I do the same for you."

This sounded like the conversation I had overheard between Mom and Carol before she
stopped dancing for a week. I braced myself for a lecture about how things were getting
out of hand and had become inappropriate. The tension in Mom's voice also filled me
with an apprehension that couldn't be ignored even with the distraction of the hugging
and the press of her breasts into my back.

"She thought her son was probably bored so, without really thinking about what she
was doing, she spiced things up a little. She thought it was pretty hard for him,
being almost a man and having to watch her."

Mom paused to let her meaning to sink in, then continued. I was glad she wasn't looking
into the mirror.

"Carol's a pretty good looking woman, especially back then, and a guy would tend to
forget, for some of the dances, that it was his mother dancing for him."

Mom's hands were still and I had the feeling she was waiting for me to acknowledge
what she had said. I nodded, and started brushing my teeth again. Evidently, Mom felt
my acknowledgement.

"Well, that's what Carol said anyway."

I nodded again and mumbled my understanding for good measure. There was a long pause
where Mom hugged me and I kept brushing my teeth, though they were well past done.


"So, do you forget, sometimes, that it's me dancing?"

Was this was the trick question? Was all this a lead into a discussion about what
I had tried to do, in the car? I didn't know the best way to answer, so I kept quiet
and mentally kicked myself for shoving my hand up her skirt. Why the fuck had I done
that?

"Like you did in the car…when you kissed me?"

I still didn't know what to say. I was pondering which way to go when Mom's hands
started rubbing my stomach outside the bathrobe. It seemed a gesture of acceptance
and I felt less threatened.

"Do you?"

I nodded, hesitantly, so I could act like I meant to shake my head instead if Mom
got mad, but she pressed her head more firmly into my back and I felt I had said the
right thing.

"That's okay, sweetie. I understand. I's just means I'm dancing well."

Mom paused as if expecting me to respond so I nodded again.

"I know it's hard on you, being young and virile," Mom's voice went hoarse on that
word, "and I shouldn't ask for your help but I really am relying on you."

Mom was quiet for a few seconds, then added, "Carol says I'm mean."

There was another long pause.

"I could make it up to you. Would you like that?"

I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Mom was still rubbing my stomach through
the robe which was starting to have an effect on me.

"You don`t have to, Mom. I mean, there's no need to…"

"I can't do what Carol did with Mark, but I can do something else for you."

There was another long pause. I didn't nod because I was wondering what Carol did
that Mom couldn't do. Then I thought about what she could do. Kissing?

"Curtis?"

"I guess, but you don't have to, Mom. I like watching you dance."

Mom's hands suddenly slipped inside my robe and landed on my bare stomach, paused
briefly, then slid down until they bracketed the sides of my hard cock, the tip of
which had pushed up through the waistband of my pajamas when Mom first pressed her
breasts into my back.

"Carol suggested I do this for you," Mom whispered.

She rubbed the front of my pajamas, her fingers curling down to cup my balls, then
sliding up the full length until her palm slipped onto the bare tip.

"Mom!" I cried, blowing a frothy mixture of saliva and toothpaste into the sink. I
was genuinely shocked.

"Shhhhhhh, your father…"

Mom used her left hand to pull the waistband of the pajamas out and down. Her right
slid inside and its thumb and index finger encircled my root while the rest of the
fingers curled down to cup my balls again.

"Don't you want me to?"

I shook my head, then nodded, and Mom laughed softly at my confusion.

"Let me know when you make up your mind," she said.

Mom slid the circle of thumb and forefinger up my shaft, barely tickling the sides
until she ran into the head, then tugged it over and squeezed almost shut to tease
my tip. She started stroking my cock, delicately sliding the thumb and forefinger
up and down my shaft, making it harder with each stroke. I gripped the side of the
sink and hung on, using my arms to help my legs prop me up. Mom gradually stroked
faster and faster, like an old fashioned train working up a full head of steam as
it left the station except the sounds weren't chugs of steam but rather cooing sounds
from Mom.

"Close your eyes, sweetie, so you see me dancing."

Immediately, I started breathing very harshly. I was already close to coming.

"Aim for the sink," Mom cried, pulling the bathrobe to the side with her left hand.
"I have enough laundry to do," she teased.

I moaned and Mom whispered, "Can you see me dancing, baby?"

I groaned and started spurting all over the sink, the taps, and way up onto the mirror.


"Oh my," Mom exclaimed. "All that, for me?"

I groaned and looked down to watch the last drops squeeze out of my cock.

Mom turned on the hot water and washed her hands as if nothing had happened. As she
dried them, she said, "So I guess we're on for Thursday."

The door closed behind her and I stared at myself in the mirror through the splatters
of my cum. Had this really fucking happened? That night I said a prayer for Lady Alexandra.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Thursday saw a repeat. I ran home after school and watched Mom dance for almost two
hours. The best part was when she crawled toward me, her face a strange mixture of
saucy smile matched to sheepish eyes. This time, Mom didn't just rub the side of her
face on my boner, she turned into my lap and I felt the softness of her nibbling lips,
even through my jeans.

After supper, Mom slipped upstairs after I made it fairly obvious I was going up to
have an early shower. I was waiting by the sink in my pajama bottoms and nothing else
when Mom came in. In the mirror, I watched her approach me from behind. At first,
she averted her eyes when she saw me looking, then she met and held my gaze.

As Mom circled the root of my cock with thumb and forefinger, she pressed her face
against my bare back and peered over my shoulder. She watched me closely as the slipped
her improvised ring up and down my shaft and when her ministrations first made me
suck in my breath, her eyes twinkled with satisfaction.

There were many more sudden inhalations after that and the first time I closed my
eyes, Mom nibbled the back of my shoulder and grasped my shaft firmly in her whole
fist. Despite squeezing my dick hard, Mom's slippery steel grip felt absolutely wonderful
all the way up and all the way down. The tender palm of Mom's hand felt magnificent
rubbing the topside of my shaft while her massaging fingers strummed the veiny underside,
and not all of those incredible sensations were due to the warming magic of Vaseline,
though Mom worked it into my meat so well it felt like she was larding me with Vicks
VapRub.

After a dozen or so long and hard squeezing strokes, Mom's hand began to pick up speed
but, in conrtast to the slow steam engine build up she had executed before, the pace
increased rapidly. I opened my eyes to see Mom's eyes peeking over my shoulder with
smoldering intensity as she yanking my cock hard and fast.

"Do you think Lady Alexandra is hot?" Mom whispered tensely.

I nodded, gasping for breath.

"Does she have nice breasts?"

I nodded vigorously.

"And an awesome ass?"

"Yeah."

Mom jacked my cock faster.

"Would you fuck her?"

"Yeah!"

Mom squeezed my shaft so hard it almost ripped out of my body. Just before I came,
she lifted up on her tippy toes, pressed her whole body against me, and alternated
between whispering in my ear and tickling the crook of my neck with her tongue.

"Think of me, baby," she said, over and over.

I blasted the mirror with even more spunk than the first time Mom jacked me off. Mom
washed her hand in the same matter-of-fact manner she had before, dried them on a
hand towel, and left without saying anything or looking at me. It was as if she had
finished doing a household chore. I wondered if she really felt like that or whether
it was the only way she could rationalize her behavior. I hoped it wasn't the former
because the thought left me feeling kind of empty inside.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Mom and Dad went out for dinner again on Friday night and returned tipsy and in a
good mood. As before, they went upstairs shortly after getting home and I lurked in
the hallway to listen to the muffled sounds of their love-making. I don't know why
I did that to myself. Thank God it didn't last long.

Mom didn't ask me to take her to Milo's on Saturday so it was a long stretch to Tuesday.


On Tuesday, I recognized the dance Mom was doing as part of the Dance of the Seven
Veils and realized she really was practising for her promised performance at Milo's.
I watched every move with renewed interest, imagining Mom in the veiled costume amid
the shifting lights of the restaurant dance floor. I could hardly wait for her to
crawl toward me across the floor when she was finished and she didn't disappoint me.
This time, when she turned her face into my lap, her lips nibbled up and down the
length of my shaft through my pants.

I was further blown away when Mom lifted her head and whispered, "Let's get you started
a little early."

Mom unbuckled my belt, unzipped my pants, and fished my cock out with some difficulty
because it was so hard and bent up. She looked at it as she jacked me off, glancing
up periodically to flash a smile but quickly returning her attention to my cock, and
her toy. Mom seemed to be genuinely playing with it.

"You'd better come upstairs before something happens," Mom said, looking critically
at how stiff and erect my shaft was. "I guess this wasn't such a good idea," she said
when she looked back and saw how awkwardly I was walking up the stairs. Mom finished
me off quickly in the bathroom and I had just bathed the sink and mirror when Dad's
car pulled into the driveway.

Later that night, Dad went upstairs to have a shower and read in bed. I pulled a reluctant
mother up the stairs.

"But you've already had your treat," she complained.

I pleaded and wheedled, all the time pulling Mom closer to the bathroom, and despite
her reluctance, she let me. I wondered if it was an act because once behind the bathroom
door Mom played with my cock with relish. She got some Vaseline out of the cupboard,
rubbed it into the palms of her hands, and then really gave my guy a good working
over. Dad must have been long out of the shower by the time I erupted but I didn't
hear the shower stop.

On Thursday, Mom started me downstairs despite saying on Tuesday that it had been
a mistake to do so. I bent her face forward and tried to get her mouth onto me but
she yanked her head back and glared at me.

"I am not Carol! I appreciate your help but this is it. Take it or leave it!"

I was taken aback by the vehemence with which Mom spoke her piece and apologized profusely.
Mom accepted my apology but was still angry. She stroked my cock a few more times
but then got up and walked briskly upstairs. I followed as best I could, trying to
yank my jeans up, but Mom strode into her room and shut the door firmly behind her.
I guess I now knew what Carol did for her son.

Bozo!

I fumed at myself through dinner and made a production of going upstairs to go to
the bathroom after supper and, later on, about getting a shower. I waited both times,
but Mom didn't come.

Fucking idiot!

I awoke late that night to a faint click. It was my bedroom door closing. There was
a rustling noise and then Mom turned the lamp on beside my bed. She was wearing a
thin nightgown and had something in her hand. The tube of Vaseline!

"Move over," she whispered.

I threw the blankets back and shuffled over. Mom slid into the bed on her back.

"Pull your pajamas down," she instructed, squeezing a dab of Vaseline into her left
palm.

I yanked my pajamas right off and looked eagerly back at Mom's moon-lit face. One
hand grasped my hardening shaft and the other squeezed my balls. It was amazing the
way she could make her hands feel like I was slipping through her own slippery channel.
I had the audacity to close my eyes and imagine I was doing just that. It didn't take
long for Mom's delicate, slippery hands to have me on the verge. Just as I was wondering
where it was all going to go, Mom squeezed my balls hard and I stopped worrying about
it.

"If you want this to continue, don't try anything fancy like that again," Mom warned.


She didn't have to specify that she was referring to me trying to pull her mouth onto
my cock; I knew what she was talking about. I was an obedient servant after that and
gritted my teeth in silence three more times. The next time brought nirvana and I
was more than ready by then. My cock, although loving every stroke and tease, was
sore and my balls were dying to release their load. Mom kept my cock nearly flat against
my stomach and steered my spunk up my chest and even onto my chin. She waited quietly
while I captured my breath.

"Are you going to behave yourself from now on?" she asked.

"Yes," I mumbled.

"Good," she said. "You can take me to Milo's on Saturday."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

On Friday, Mom and Dad went out again. They weren't in as happy a mood when they came
back but nevertheless retired early. I swore I wouldn't but ended up standing outside
their door again. Surprisingly, they were already finishing. I quickly beat a hasty
retreat to my room and barely got there before my parents' door burst open. Mom stomped
down the stairs and then dishes started banging about. I closed my door and went to
bed.

Dad must have finished early and she didn't get her rocks off. Either that, or he
tried to do something she didn't like. If she comes to my room, I thought, maybe I
could take another stab at getting her mouth on me.

Don't be stupid, moron. She's not going to put her mouth on your cock just because
she didn't get it off with Dad.

Well, maybe I could take another crack at getting my finger in her. I'll insist on
comforting her instead of getting my rocks off and just slip my hand between her legs,
under her nightgown, and see what happens.

Yeah, right.

Mom didn't come to my room that night. Best laid plans and all that. Oh well.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dad slipped me another C note for dinner at Milo's late Saturday afternoon.

"Are you sure Mom wants to go?" I asked. "She hasn't said anything to me."

I was wondering about that because Mom had said she wanted to go and that was after
my boo-boo so I was a little worried that she hadn't said anything more to me, especially
since it was already after four.

Don't get me wrong. I was keen to take Mom to Milo's. I liked being the man having
dinner with Mom. In that green dress, she was real eye candy. Watching Lady Alexandra
dance wasn't a hardship either and the visits to the back room, when they happened,
were the best of all. Plus, there was always the possibility of seeing more of Mom
than she wanted to show. Carol was my side-kick in that regard. If it wasn't for Carol,
I knew none of this would have happened. Ever since she put Mom's panties in my hand,
I knew she would push Mom to have sex with me like I was now sure she did with her
own son. Carol was my friend, and I definitely wanted Mom to remain hers.

"I think she does," Dad replied. "She likes going out for dinner, and dancing," Dad
frowned.

I pocketed the money and went up to my room. When I came downstairs again, I heard
Dad and Mom talking in the kitchen. He asked Mom if she was going to let me take her
to Milo's. I lingered near the kitchen door to eavesdrop.

"Why? Did he say something?"

"No, but I think he really likes taking you."

"You do? I would think he'd be embarrassed being seen with his mother."

"You hardly look like his mother."

Mom's voice lowered. "Don't try to butter me up after last night."

"I'm not babe, but you know you haven't aged as fast as me. You look more like a woman
out with a boy toy than a mother."

"Oh God, now I really feel good."

"Why not have some fun with it? Play around with people's minds a bit, just for the
hell of it. Remember how we used to pretend?" Dad's voice changed, adopting a sexy
edge that seemed out of place with him. "Then come home and tell me all about it."


Mom laughed loudly. The stair creaked and I walked into the living room as if I'd
just come downstairs.

"What's so funny?" I said as I passed by the kitchen doorway.

"Nothing," came the joint reply.

"Are you taking your mother out?" Dad called.

"Does she want to go?"

"Hell yes," Mom said.

She was walking up the stairs when I emerged from the kitchen. When she disappeared
down the hall, Dad pulled out another C note.

"Buy a really nice bottle of wine to have with dinner."

"Mom likes ouzo."

"Really?" Dad asked.

"Yeah. It's a Greek restaurant, Dad."

"Even better," he said.

Mom didn't call me to fetch her coat upstairs. When she came down, I couldn't quite
suppress a gasp. Nor could Dad. Mom was wearing a very chic black dress that hugged
her figure and, though it closed together just below her neck, it gapped open below
to provide a peek-a-boo window on the inner swells of her pushed together breasts.
The skirt wasn't short but it had a slit on the left side that reached way up Mom's
thigh above matching velvet black high heels.

"Wow," Dad whistled, looking very pleased. He winked at me as I closed the door, rubbing
thumb and forefinger together in a reminder to spend money on a few drinks. I guess
I wasn't the only one hoping to get lucky with Mom. The thought bothered me a bit.
Not that Dad didn't have a right, but rather that I didn't. I also didn't like the
feeling of wanting to use her, by him or by me.

Lady Alexandra's dance was exceptional. The restaurant was very busy so she didn't
have time to meet with us in the back room. She only sat long enough to extract a
confirmation that Mom was practising the Dance of the Seven Veils. I was very disappointed
to hear a visit to the back room wasn't on the menu.

"How's she doing, Curtis?"

She laughed before I could respond. "Don't bother. I can see the answer in your face."


She got up, still laughing and stooped to give Mom a womanly kiss on the cheek. "I
hope you're having fun too, Lisa."

Mom blushed. I found that very endearing and encouraging. After Carol was gone, Mom
asked me to dance with her and we spent quite a bit of time on the floor. I had one
drink but Mom had quite a few more and it was late when we finally left. I drove straight
for home but Mom told me to turn off.

"Let's go see the lights," she said in a husky, drink-worn voice.

"Won't Dad be waiting up for you?" I asked cheekily, making an obvious reference to
expected extracurricular activities between my parents.

"Is that why you insisted I have more ouzo?"

I shrugged, not wanting to spill the beans on Dad, but Mom knew him too well.

"He can wait a while longer," Mom chuckled.

"Okay, if you say so."

"I say so."

I drove up the winding hill and parked in the little pull-off. I rolled the front
windows down about a quarter of the way before turning off the engine and putting
the key in the accessories position so we could listen to the radio. Mom turned it
off when she slid across to sit next to me. I regretted the loss of the green dashlights
but was glad when that Mom moved closer because I wasn't sure until that minute she
would. Lately, I had been finding her quite unpredictable. The choice between dashlights
and the warmth of Mom's body next to me was a no-brainer. We sat for about five minutes
before Mom broke the silence.

"It's so soothing, looking at the lights and watching the cars, taking people here
and there. It makes you wonder what's going on in their lives."

"Yeah, it's hard to know what people are up to. For all we know, old Mr. Jensen across
the street could be an axe murderer."

"I was thinking of something more benign," Mom giggled.

"Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know. Like, maybe, that nobody would suspect the hijinks Carol got up
to with her son after her husband was gone."

I was in the process of putting my arm around Mom but hesitated and let it hover over
her shoulder. Mom grasped my hand and pulled my arm down, snug around her neck.

"It doesn't seem like she was too bothered by his absence," I observed.

"You couldn't be more wrong. She was absolutely devastated."

"Really?"

"Yes. Carol's a pretty good-looking woman but she didn't go out with anybody, even
after a couple of years."

"Oh, I thought she moved on right away. She seems happy enough."

"Yeah, but at first Carol took it pretty hard and for a while she hit the bottle.
If it wasn't for Mark, I don't know what she would have done. He talked her into buying
the restaurant."

"Uh huh. At least her husband didn't leave her strapped."

"No, she was quite comfortable, financially, just lonely."

"So, how did it all start? She said she danced for her son. Was that it?"

"Are you trying to find out how far they went?"

"I guess," I admitted.

"A lot farther than it will go between us, if that's what you want to know."

"I thought you might have wanted to come up here to talk about it."

Mom turned her face up to study my face.

"You're older than you look, sometimes."

"So, are you going to lay down the law?"

"No. I think we have an understanding."

"Is that it, then?"

"No. I don't know quite how we got to where we are. No, that's a lie. I let it happen.
I didn't mean to, and I let Carol push me, but I knew what I was doing to you and
I kept it up. It made me feel like…well, like I haven't felt for a long time, but
I can't let it go any further than it already has."

"You mean not go on any longer, or not go any further?"

Mom thought for a moment.

"No further than it has."

I was pleased, very pleased. I didn't comment but I tightened my arm around Mom's
shoulders to express my gratitude. I stared out the window at the lights and picked
a car to follow, wondering what the people inside were like and how they got along
with each other. I was on my third car when I felt Mom's fingers on my belt.

"Dad's waiting for you," I said.

"I know," Mom replied.

I pressed back into the seat and let Mom undo my pants. She fished my cock out of
my underwear and slowly started jacking me off. It was all very casual and I felt
we could have been talking and having a coffee together like a couple who had been
together a long time. I mentioned a car down below and said I bet there was a good-looking
woman in it.

"I wonder if she has a son my age and how they get along."

Mom didn't say anything.

"I wonder if they kiss and stuff."

Mom still remained silent and I told myself to stop talking and just enjoy what she
was doing. I was quite hard now, so some part of me was paying close attention. Mom
spit on her hand and began stroking me harder, holding my cock more firmly, but not
faster.

"I wonder if lots of Moms do stuff with their sons."

"Curtis, I don't want to talk about it."

I looked down. Mom was concentrating on what she was doing, seemingly mesmerized by
my shaft and the movement of her small fist up and down its length. She spit on her
hand again and applied the saliva to the tip of my cock.

I turned Mom's face toward me and leaned down to kiss her. We necked for a while and
I soon had Mom twisted toward me with her right leg thrown over mine. I teased her
lips with mine, in no hurry and wondered how she managed to deftly parry my nibbles
without loosing a beat on my cock when it took all of my concentration to kiss her
the best I knew how.

My left hand found its way between her legs and started moving up her skirt but my
lips faltered. I didn't have Mom's multi-tasking skills.

"Curtis," Mom admonished, pulling away.

"That's not fair," I complained.

Mom didn't say anything and I withdrew my hand a bit. We started kissing again. After
a minute, when I thought she was back into it, I pushed my hand deeper into Mom's
skirt but I didn't get any farther because she tightened her thighs.

"Stop being a brat," Mom said when the kiss ended.

"You could unzip your dress instead," I suggested.

"I don't think so."

We started to kiss again and I wiggled my hand deeper between Mom's tightly clamped
thighs. Just when I thought I wasn't going to get anywhere, Mom slid her right foot
down my leg a little and loosened the hold her thighs had on my hand. I pushed it
deep and gasped when my fingers collided with the gusset of Mom's panties.

"Is that the big thing you were hoping for?" Mom teased, her voice soft and sexy,
yet amused.

"Yes," I gasped, the delight of discovery robbing me of breath.

"Good grief," Mom sighed.

My hand dug deeper and the edge of my index finger slid along the groove below the
front of Mom's panties until the thumb notched into place, stopping further progress.
I lowered my thumb and scratched it across the mounded gusset of Mom's panties.

"You shouldn't do that," Mom husked.

"Why?"

Mom didn't answer. Her lips sought mine and we buried ourselves in a long kiss and
both our hands and fingers continued the tasks on which they were currently engaged.
I was surprised when we finished the kiss to find Mom panting, as I already was. I
didn't ease the pressure applied by the edge of my wiggling fingers in her groove,
or the caressing brush of my thumb across her mound, and I was pleased that Mom continued
to stroke my cock lovingly, though she did it more slowly and squeezed with a firmer
grip.

"Curtis?"

"What?"

"Maybe we should stop now."

In answer, I covered Mom's mouth with mine. My lips really worked hers hard and at
some point my tongue slipped into her mouth. Mom groaned and twisted her face hard
upon mine and I responded by squeezing her pussy and flicking my thumb with greater
pressure on her swollen lower lips.

The kiss ended and Mom turned her face downward. I pressed down on the back of her
head and this time, instead of yanking it back and chewing me out, she let me guide
it down until her I felt the puff of her hot breath. Mom resisted the pressure then,
her mouth hovering over my cock and bathing it with hot air from her sexy mouth until,
at last, it lowered and blessed my tip with the caress of her moist lips.

"Ahhhhh God, Mom."

Mom sucked the head into her mouth and closed her lips behind the helmet like she
was tightening a collar around it.

"Oh Jeez, Mom, Jeez."

Mom pushed her mouth down the shaft, wiggling her head until her lips mashed into
my pubic hair. It was awkward, but I pulled my hand up and slipped it under the waistband
of Mom's panties, then reached below to cup her bare pussy. Rather than fighting me,
as I expected her to, Mom did something with her pelvis that provided greater access
and my fingers abruptly slid through her groove and into her hole. Mom's head started
sliding faster up and down my cock.

I helped Mom's head with my free hand and she grasped my wrist and steered my other
hand to the position she wanted it to be in. I had two fingers deep inside Mom but
she twisted my wrist until my thumb was digging into the middle of her mound on the
outside and then began bucking against me. For my part, I pushed Mom's face back onto
my cock every time she lifted it.

We thrashed around like that for several minutes, or maybe less, and then we were
both coming. I was spurting into Mom's mouth and she was convulsing around my fingers
and thumb, legs and feet jerking. When we were both done, Mom withdrew to her side
of the car and we both straightened our clothes.

"We should go," Mom spoke quietly.

I started the car, backed out, and started down the hill. Mom was looking out her
window and, from the slight jerk of her head, looked like she was swearing at herself.


"I shouldn't have let you do that," Mom said out loud.

I didn't answer.

When we got home we found Dad asleep in his chair. I went upstairs while Mom woke
him up. After changing into my pajama bottoms, I went to use the bathroom but heard
them through their bedroom door.

"No, Ted. I'm too tired."

"Ted, no."

A few minutes later, "Jesus Ted."

That was followed by my father huffing and puffing and the bed creaking.

Mom didn't make a sound.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next Tuesday, I was home early as usual but was surprised to find no music playing
and Mom in the kitchen baking. She had an apron over an old housedress, a summer print,
with flour all over her hands but also on one cheek and her forehead. She certainly
didn't look like she was about to practise belly dancing.

I was disappointed but didn't say anything. I went up to my room, dumped my backpack,
and changed into a t-shirt and sweatpants. Then I went back downstairs, made myself
a snack and poured a large glass of milk, and watched Mom bake.

At one point Mom turned and looked at me and laughed.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

"Your face," Mom answered.

She walked over to me and reached out with her index finger, rubbed it across my lower
lip, and showed me the milk on it. I laughed and reached up to wipe Mom's face, then
showed her the flour. We both laughed again but Mom stopped pretty quickly and rubbed
her fingertip across my upper lip and than back across my lower lip.

"You're pouting like a little boy whose been told he can't have any treats."

I stood up and rubbed both of Mom's cheeks. She took my hand then and turned, leading
me into the living room. She took me to the couch and pushed me down onto it, then
walked over to the stereo and turned on the CD player. The music for the Dance of
the Seven Veils burst forth.

With her back to me, Mom reached behind herself and untied her apron, then let it
fall to the floor. I expected her to start dancing after that but instead she reached
up and unzipped the housedress, pushed it off her shoulders one at a time and then
over her hips. The dress fell to the floor with a soft rustle. Underneath, Mom was
wearing a bra made of thin material that couldn't hide the features of her breasts
and a pair of panties that featured a triangle in front and not much else. Neither
matched the simple, home-maker house dress.

Mom started to dance. I watched her perform the entire thing, faking the toss of invisible
veils, until she ended up on the floor. I waited for her to sit up and crawl over
to me but Mom stayed where she was, lying on her back, legs a'kilter.

I waited, but Mom didn't move. I was about to go to her when she sat up, crossed her
feet and wrapped her arms around her knees, then sat and smiled at me. I opened my
legs in a gesture of welcome and that brought a wider smile from Mom but instead of
crawling toward me she sank backward on the floor, her legs unfolding smoothly as
part of the larger motion.

I crawled over to Mom. She watched me approach, an expectant expression on her face,
breathing quietly but in a way that suggested it was barely under control. That excited
me, knowing she was excited too.

When I tried to stretch out alongside her, Mom drew her legs up and squeezed them
together. I sat beside her and pushed her knees, thinking they would straighten out
but was surprised when they fell apart but remained still bent and up off the floor.
I was looking right at Mom's panties, focused on the white expanse covering her prominent
mound. It looked alive.

Mom started to get up but I pressed her back onto the carpet.

"No, Curtis."

"Lie still just for a minute."

"We shouldn't," Mom protested, but she didn't try to get up.

I leaned around Mom's right knee and settled in between her legs, lowering my head
until my face was hardly an inch from her panties. Taking a page from Mom's book,
I blew hot air on the panties and was thrilled when I saw them quiver in response.
I blew again, and again.

"Curtis…"

I lowered my face until it contacted the panties, found her groove with my nose and
nudged it up until my lips pressed across it.

"Curtis…"

I opened my mouth and covered as much of Mom's mound as I could fit, then munched
with a gentle squeeze. Mom's thighs scissored up beside my face and I thought she
was about to buck me off until her hands closed onto the back of my head and pulled
me harder onto her muff.

"Oh, my God," she gasped.

I knew then that no matter what Mom said, she needed it, even if she didn't want it.
I pushed my face hard onto Mom's swollen panties. Her fingers caught in my hair and
I endured some pain as she tugged my head about while I worked my mouth on her panties,
knawing at her puffy lips.

We struggled like that for a couple of minutes until Mom's hands gradually stopped
trying to pull my head away and I began moving it around on her panties. Her legs
opened to make the task easier and I settled in to kiss and munch Mom's musky underwear.
When Mom arched her back and moaned, I took the liberty of sliding her panties down
her thighs until they were above my head and slipped between her legs until the panties
were stretched behind my neck.

My tongue found Mom's hole and that sent her into a writhing frenzy but nothing like
a few minutes later when I slid my nose up through her groove to flick my tongue over
her clit and pushed a couple of fingers into her cunt to frig it while I kissed and
licked her pussy and flicked her clit. Mom exploded into a loud orgasm that was so
frantic I wondered when or if she had ever come that hard. Dad was obviously too selfish
a lover to do his duty properly.

I moved up beside Mom and kissed her lightly on the lips. She pushed my face back
and used both hands to smooth my face, wiping her juice away. Then she moved her hands
down to my sweatpants and started to push them down but, with our usual timing, Dad's
car sounded in the driveway. Mom got up, pulled her panties up, and started putting
her dress on. She looked at the huge tent in my sweatpants and said, "Sorry baby."


"That's alright," I said.

"You'd better get going. You don't want to be standing around with that thing sticking
out when your father comes in."

"Right," I laughed nervously, looking at the front door.

Later that night, Mom woke me up. Groggily, I looked up at her as she slid into the
bed beside me, propped a pillow up and leaned back against the headboard. When I twisted
around and tried to kiss her, she pushed me off.

"Get up here," she said.

"What?" I asked, my head still full of cobwebs.

"Get up here," Mom repeated, her hand snaking into my pajamas and grasping my still
sleeping, flaccid cock.

Mom pulled and I followed. By the time I was straddling her hips, my cock was gaining
strength and when Mom pulled the tip up to her lips, it was ready to gallop. I slid
easily into Mom's mouth and worked my cock gently back and forth but, with Mom's urging,
I soon quickened my pace. It wasn't long before I was fucking Mom's face with her
full permission, her hands grasping my hips to urge me on. When I began unloading
my spunk in Mom's mouth, I wondered if she would let me spew some on her face but
decided I didn't want to test that hypothesis. Not yet, anyway. We had come a long
way and I didn't want to blow it.

When I was done, Mom slipped off the bed and, with a smile, said, "Saved your pajamas
from the laundry."

I blushed at the reminder that Mom had known all along that I was thinking of her
and jacking off at night every time she danced for me during the day.

Thursday was similar to Tuesday. Mom wasn't baking but she was wearing an ordinary
house dress when I came home. This time, as soon as I arrived, Mom pulled me into
the living room and sat me on the couch. After starting the music, she stripped off
the dress to reveal an even skimpier set of bra and panties. When the dance was finished,
I prepared to crawl over to Mom but she beat me too it, crawling toward me like a
lioness stalking its prey.

Mom leaned over my lap and immediately began caressing my cock, rubbed her face over
my pants for a few seconds, then quickly fished my hardness out to grace the afternoon
air and her sweet mouth. Despite Tuesday night, I thought about the difficulty I had
getting Mom's mouth on my cock the first time and was surprised how easily she dispensed
with jacking me off and moved straight to sucking me. Not that I was complaining.


I held Mom's head down after she got going. It made it better if I could hold her
head and pretend I was forcing her face to stay deep on my cock. I think Mom instinctively
knew that because she didn't complain. Needless to say, I was soon coming in Mom's
mouth and thinking about spewing on her face, but chickened out. Two days before I
would never have thought this could happen and already I was thinking of going further,
getting more. I waited for Mom to slide away to lie on the floor so I could eat her
out but instead she stood up, stepped onto the couch to straddle my hips, and lowered
her pussy to my face.

"Stick out your tongue," she rasped.

I did and Mom found it with the center of her panties, spreading her legs out along
the couch beside me so she could grind herself on my mouth. She wouldn't let her panties
down her legs for quite a while but when she did, she was so far gone she could hardly
stand up. I put my hands under Mom's ass for support while she braced her hands on
my shoulders to keep aloft. I had to hold my neck stiffly to stop it flopping from
side to side as Mom ground her soaking wet pussy on my face. I did my best to keep
my tongue stiff inside her, partly to dampen the side-to-side twisting action of her
frantic pelvis. I guess I did a good enough job because my neck didn't break and Mom
came with a vengeance that doused my face a good one.

"Gosh," she said afterward, stroking my cheek with a gentle hand. "I didn't mean to
do that to you but you made me so wet. Oh Jeez, I can't believe I'm talking to you
like that."

"It's alright Mom. I owe you one."

Mom looked at me with a funny expression and I wished I'd kept my mouth shut. I still
couldn't predict how she would react to anything I said or did.

Mom put her dress on and we walked upstairs together, arm in arm. When Dad came home,
I was standing at the top of the stairs, kissing Mom, my hands under her dress and
on her ass.

"We don't have to do this just when you dance or we go out for dinner, Mom. I don't
think I can wait until next Tuesday."

"You'll have to, son, because those are the rules, and after I've done the Dance of
the Seven Veils for Carol, we're done."

I was too stunned by what Mom said to answer. How could she say that, how could she
stop, after how far we'd gone, when we were just beginning? This wasn't a trade. Didn't
she know I loved her?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

On Friday, Dad took Mom out for dinner and then to the same club they had danced in
before. They were tipsy when they arrived home but I wasn't downstairs to see it.
I ran up to my room as soon as I heard their car pull into the driveway and listened
to their giggles and muffled voices. Later, I heard muted sounds of lovemaking. I
didn't hear any indication of a disagreement like had happened last time but, like
before, their love-making was very brief. Dangerously, I lingered by their door. It
wasn't long before Dad was snoring.

I went to bed then and soon dozed off myself but woke up while shifting positions
and noticed a light in the hallway. I looked at the clock and saw that I had actually
been sleeping for almost two hours. I got up and peeked into the hall. It was dark
so the light must be coming from downstairs, probably the kitchen. I walked warily
to the end of the hallway and confirmed my suspicion. Someone had left the kitchen
light on. I descended the stairs, now relaxed and scratching my nuts. I was a little
hungry anyway so I might as well have a snack now that I was up.

At the bottom of the stairs, I turned to enter the kitchen but was startled by a motion
in the living room.

"Dad?"

There was no answer, but someone or something had moved. I peered into the half-light,
the hair on the back of my neck standing up, until I saw a woman's figure, body still
but arms moving in a fluid motion by her sides. I put my hand above my eyes to peer
more intently, trying to see Mom's face but her expression was hidden in the shadows.
All I could see was the light from the kitchen reflecting from her eyes and bathing
her arms in a translucent glow. The tingling in my neck spread down my arms and body
to stimulate my groin.

I moved into the living room and stepped sideways toward the couch. As I did so, the
light from the street backlit Mom's figure and I saw that she was wearing the costume
for the Dance of the Seven Veils. The silhouette of her figure underneath was starkly
lit against the backdrop of the living room window. Mom's hips twitched, shook, and
rolled with an obvious reaction from me. I sat down to watch her dance, the house
dead silent except for the sound of the music in Mom's head and mine.

Mom's movements gradually became more lively. I took in every twist and shimmy, every
lunge and kick, even the individual movements of her fingers. The dance went on and
on and was so consuming that I barely noticed when each veil was individually discarded
but, when she was down to three, Mom slipped onto her back on the floor and lay still
for a full minute.

Mom started the floor routine just as I leaned forward to get up, thinking she was
done. I sank back into the couch and after a moment my hand found the hard cock tenting
up the front of my pajamas. I slipped it under the waistband and wrapped my hand around
my meat. It was impossible not to touch my cock.

Even if Lady Alexandra was ten years younger than Mom, instead of the other way around,
she couldn't have been as sexy. Mom was fantastic. She moved when she should move,
stayed still when time was needed to appreciate the beauty of her form, and stretched
with fluid but excruciating slowness when a tease would have its most devastating
effect.

Mom ground her pelvis in the air, rolled her hips from side to side and alternately
opened and closed her legs. She spun around to face the rug, stretched her legs up
high behind her, bent her knees and pushed out her behind, but only allowed such presentation
for a brief, teasing flash.

I was startled to see that Mom had somehow sprung to her feet without me noticing,
for she was dancing nearer to me now, her snake-like arms teasing, beckoning. I started
to get up but she quickly retreated, hands warding me off, as she smiled mischievously,
crouching, thigh muscles bulging in a convincing demonstration of feminine power.


Mom now stood her ground instead of whirling and twirling around. Her hips no longer
kinked and twitched and her tummy rolled rather than convulsed above her legs and
under her chest, always beside or behind or in front of her constantly moving arms.
And always the eyes, the teasing, laughing eyes.

Suddenly it was over.

Mom was facing me on widespread knees, body flung back, breasts thrusting upward over
a sharply arched back, hair dangling on the floor behind her, balanced by bare feet
stretched alongside and out from sweat-glistened thighs.

Again, just as I was about to get up to go to her, Mom rose up and stretched her hand
out in the universal signal to stop. Her teeth flashed briefly in the kitchen light
then disappeared and the glint of two seemingly coal black eyes, rather than her normal
green ones, fixed upon me.

Mom was moving. She pushed herself fluidly onto her hands and knees, lowered her shoulders,
and crept toward me like a panther. The clash of the faint but cold light from the
street with the warm rays from the kitchen made the muscles in Mom's back ripple ominously,
even through the veil. Mom looked like she was about to pounce on her prey. The hair
stood up on the back of my neck. I leaned away, pressing my back into the couch.

"Mom?" I whispered, nervously.

Mom reared up and threw her upper body onto my lap, flinging her arms around my waist
and digging between it and the couch until her hands clasped together in a tight hold.
Her chest heaved on my knees as she gasped for air and I realized how utterly exhausted
she must be. I put my arms on Mom's back and rubbed behind her shoulders.

"You were awesome."

"Shhhhhh," Mom hissed.

I complied, looking down at Mom lying with the left side of her face squarely on top
of my hard cock, throbbing and sticking out of my pajama bottoms. I started to speak,
to say that I wasn't trying to do anything, that I didn't just want her mouth, but
Mom shushed me again.

"Shhhhhhhh."

I tried to lift Mom's head. It came free of my lap but she turned to look straight
down and then forced her face lower until it regained contact with my pajamas. Her
nose skidded along the right side of my hard cock and the puffiness of her lips pressed
against its root, just above my balls. Mom's head twisted up and her lips and nose
followed, past the waistband, and onto bare skin. The feel of Mom's soft, moist lips
scraping up the underside of my cock was too much to bear. I groaned.

"Shhhhhh."

Oh my God. Mom's tongue was dragging up behind her lips. She neared the tip, licking,
head moving, adjusting, opening…shit, she was pulling me in, completely inside her
warm, wet mouth. Oh God, Mom, oh Mom. She slid right down, all the way, filling her
mouth, licking and munching on my root. God, her head was moving up, all the way,
and off…Jesus, she was licking it, her tongue swirling around, then her lips closed
over the tip and her mouth slid down my shaft again.

I started coming before Mom even reached the root. Can you imagine, two sucks and
I was gone? Spurting, my hips lunging involuntarily, completely out of control, my
hands holding Mom's head in place as I thrust frantically into her mouth, many times,
convulsing, gasping and desperately trying to breathe. Then I was still, spent, but
Mom kept sucking, licking me clean as she slowly pushed her lips tightly down my shaft
and rubbed the underside with her raspy tongue, like a cat's.

At first, I didn't care. It felt nice but I was spent. Then I did care. It felt more
than nice; it felt great and then, fantastic. My hands found the back of Mom's head
again and I began steering it around my cock and trying to hold it down, all the way
down to my root. Mom let me, staying all the way on and only coming off in a loud
pop to gulp air before capturing my hard rod and shoving her mouth onto it again.
When I was as hard as ever, Mom pulled her face off my cock and raised her head.

"Ready?" she whispered.

For what?

Mom's hands, still curled around my waist, grabbed the back of the waistband for my
pajamas and yanked. I lifted my hips to make it easier and they slid down my legs.
Mom pulled them below my knees and then off my feet. Then she stood up and, smiling
down at me, removed the upper veil. Mom's naked tits bounced into view above me, full
and heavy, nipples jabbing into the semi-darkness that my eyes now penetrated with
ease.

The skirt veil was next and then Mom was standing in front of me wearing only the
mini micro-veil that barely covered her pussy. A lift and a snap and it too was gone.
Mom allowed me to stare at her bare pussy for a few seconds before kneeling on the
couch, straddling my thighs to align her slit above my wavering cock, then slipped
it inside. I enjoyed a moment of extreme bliss which I thought couldn't be surpassed
but Mom proved me wrong when she slid slowly down my shaft, her inner walls clasping
my rigid spear, squeezing and massaging all the way down until she sat upon my root
and the soft, wet gums of her lower lips caressed the skin around the base of my cock.


"Don't you dare leave me hanging," Mom whispered. "I've had my fill of that."

"I won't, Mom. I promise," I gasped.

An image of Mom lying frustrated beside my satisfied, sleeping father filled my head
and I laughed out loud. I thrust upward, shoving my cock even deeper inside Mom and
she grunted in appreciation as I lifted her off the couch, the first of many times
to follow.

Thereafter, I limited myself to such movements because it was Mom's turn to wrench
enjoyment out of me and oh, how she did. There was a lot of pent up, frustrated desire
in Mom, the result of too many nights being left hanging by my worn out, prematurely
aging father. I wished I could say I fucked my mother good that first time but actually
it was the other way around. Mom fucked the shit out of me.

When Mom was done, she sagged limply upon me. At first her arms circled my neck but
they soon loosened and fell to the side. I nuzzled and kissed Mom's neck and was surprised
to learn that my hands held two meaty handfuls of tits. I massaged them but Mom pulled
away and fell to the side to lie lengthways on the couch.

I followed Mom, leaning over her, grasping her legs behind the knees and pressing
them back to her shoulders. As Mom shook her head slowly from side to side, belatedly
realizing what I was up to, I plunged my still hard cock deep into her wet pussy.
I looked down upon her in triumph and Mom looked back, but not in submission.

"Kiss me," she said.

A few minutes later she turned her face away and cried, "Squeeze them hard."

I reached around Mom's thighs to grab her tits and started fucking her in earnest
the way only a young man can do. Thank God my father was a heavy sleeper because I
put that couch through its paces, the top of my thighs slapping loudly upon the back
of hers. When we were done, had caught our breath and stopped kissing each other,
Mom got up. I tried to pull her back onto the couch for another round but she pulled
away, silently mouthing, "No, go to bed." It was just as well because I probably couldn't
have managed it anyway.

Mom gathered the veils and walked up the stairs naked in front of me without the slightest
hint of awkwardness or shame. I stopped her before she entered her room and pushed
her against the wall for a final kiss and a proprietary clasp and exploration of her
wet pussy, sliding my hands from her ass to finger her from behind.

Mom whispered, "No more," and twisted away from me. I was left in the dark hallway
with only my wet fingers and hard cock as evidence that I had bedded my mother despite
all the signs that it would never happen.

What had changed? It was as if Mom was like that picture of the old hag or the young
girl. As you stared hard at one perspective, it suddenly became the other. Mom had
said that after she danced at Milo's our special relationship was over, yet she had
just consummated our relationship in a way she implied would never happen. I had achieved
my dreams, somehow, through no effort of my own but tomorrow night Mom would perform
the Dance of the Seven Veils and, in her own words, our special relationship would
not continue beyond that performance. But how could it not, after we had gone all
the way?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Mom's cool and indifferent attitude the next day granted me no assurance that things
were going to stay the same between us; there was no confirmation that we had crossed
a one-way boundary and that things could never be the same. There were no secret glances
or smiles, no sashays across the kitchen floor when Dad wasn't looking. Nothing, nada.
In fact, Mom seemed perturbed whenever I approached her closely, however subtlety.


I read up on incestuous relations between mothers and sons—it sounded ugly and I hated
to admit that it described us but that's what it was. Still, I felt what happened
was beautiful—not the crap on the sex story sites but in the case studies of real
relationships. These weren't as rare as one might think and though they weren't described
in flattering terms, I saw a glimmer of beauty hiding within each case.

I also found out that a mature woman could be released from, often self-imposed, sexual
inhibition in an explosion of sexuality. So why was Mom, having done that last night,
now exhibiting the opposite effect? Sure, it had only been one day but the tension
between us had been building incrementally for weeks and this was the second time
she had cooled toward me. I hoped she just needed some space.

So I played it cool. That lasted for all of two hours and then I got the brush off
when I tossed a hint in as low key a manner as humanly possible. Even so, Mom seemed
angry and flashed a nervous glance in my father's direction, and he wasn't even in
the room. I left and angrily went upstairs to my room to sulk. Fuck! Women were so
fucking frustrating.

I didn't emerge until Mom yelled for me to come down for dinner. I didn't shout back
lest my father get involved so I went downstairs. The dining room table wasn't set
and Dad was sitting in the living room already eating on a TV table. Mom had changed
into a frilly white blouse and a sleek black skirt. Her hair was done up like she
was ready to go out.

"We're going to be late. Why haven't you changed?" she asked, frowning as she regarded
my sloppy attire, sweatpants and a t-shirt.

"Changed? For what?" I mumbled.

"Milo's. You promised to take me to see the special show Carol told us about."

Dad looked up and winked at me. "Ahhh, so you're into the older ladies?"

I rolled my eyes.

"You'd better go and get ready, son," Dad added more sympathetically.

I turned and started back up the stairs.

"You'd better hurry," he said. "It looks like you're already in trouble."

I sprang up the stairs but my mind raced way ahead of my body. Dinner, then a drive
up to see the city lights, and maybe some…whatever, then back home and hopefully Dad
would be in bed by then so we could…Yeah, oh yeah. I knew it!

But wait. Mom wasn't wearing the green dress with the little bra underneath. She was
wearing a staid, well a little frilly, but still conservative-looking white blouse
and a plain black skirt, not even a short one, it was down to her knees for crying
out loud.

Yeah, so? She still looks nice in it. It shows her figure nicely and her legs are
great. You can see she's still got a dynamite body.

But it's so conservative. If she was going to get wild, wouldn't she be wearing the
green dress or that sexy black number, or something else she had to hide under her
coat so Dad wouldn't see?

Maybe, maybe not.

I quit talking to myself and got busy dressing. I had just tucked my shirt into my
pants and was about to do my tie when Mom knocked on the door and pushed it open.


"That looks better. Here, let me help."

Mom started doing my tie and while she concentrated on it I carefully regarded her
for any sign that things were going to get back on track, or keep going off track
depending on your perspective, but I couldn't fathom her mood.

Mom looked pretty with her make-up all done. I inhaled her aroma, a mix of her core
scent which I now easily recognized and that of the perfume she was wearing. I looked
at the delicate curve of her neck, which seemed so long with her hair up, and leaned
forward a tiny bit, propelled by the urge to kiss it.

Mom pulled away. "There," she said, surveying her handiwork. "Put your jacket on and
let's go."

I got my sports jacket from the closet and put it on, then went to the door and waited
for Mom.

"Aren't you going to put on your dress shoes?"

"Oh yeah."

I retrieved my shoes from the closet and started toward the bed so I could sit down
when I put them on, remembered that Mom would admonish me if I didn't use a shoe horn,
returned to the closet for it and bent over to put my shoes on. I kneeled down to
tie my shoes but my eyes surveyed Mom's legs, at least, as much as they could with
my head tilted down. When I stood up, ready to go, Mom spoke.

"You understand we must act like nothing unnatural has happened between us, don't
you Curtis?"

I nodded. I hated the sound of that word, 'unnatural'. It described what happened
between us in prejudical terms as if it was wrong and was now over. There was an air
of finality about it . Deflated, I nodded and walked into the hall and waited for
Mom to come out of my room. When she turned out the light it felt like hope had been
extinguished inside me.

However, as Mom walked ahead of me and I watched her carefully descend the stairs
in her high heels, I decided that the white blouse and sleek back skirt was quite
edgy and not at all conservative. Perhaps I had misread her mood. As long as Mom was
near, my hope would never die.

Mom asked Dad if there was anything else he needed and then reminded him to give me
some money so she didn't have to pay for dinner. While Dad got his wallet out and
gave me the money, Mom went into the hallway to put her coat on. I joined her after
Dad gave me the dough; this was becoming quite a profitable tradition.

I waited for Mom to do up her coat before opening the door in case it was chilly outside.
While I did, I thought about how naturally it now came for me to be courteous and
considerate toward Mom, opening doors for her, seating her at the restaurant, that
kind of thing. I liked treating her well.

I put my hand on the door knob but Mom's coat was still partly unbuttoned and she
wasn't making any move to do it up. I started to say something but Mom put her finger
to her lips to shush me. She beckoned me closer.

As I stepped near, Mom let her hands fall to the front of her skirt. I looked down
and watched her fingers curl up, bunching together two handfuls of black skirt. Mom's
hands slid upward, pulling the skirt higher.

Fear drove my eyes away. Fear of being discovered by Dad sitting just around the corner
watching TV. I looked back at Mom, saw the mischievous smile and sparkly eyes I had
been missing so much, then looked down at the skirt's hem which was now stretched
tightly across her upper thighs. Mom started to say something but I couldn't hear
so I stepped really close and put my ear close to her mouth.

"I'm already wet," she whispered, and pushed her lips against mine for an instant.


I was so stunned I almost fell backward into the door. Mom followed, whispering.

"Go upstairs and get my panties, the ones you hid under your pillow."

"What?" Dad asked.

"Nothing, dear," Mom answered. She looked at me. "Quickly," she whispered, and then
in a normal voice, "I'll wait for you in the car."

I bounded up the stairs and back after retrieving Mom's panties. I had the presence
of mind to wave my wallet at Dad as I passed by him on the way to the door. He shook
his head.

I ran to the car. Mom was waiting by the passenger door, keys in hand. She gave them
to me and waited for me to open the door. When she swung her legs into the car, I
was treated to a long expanse of slender leg visible through the open coat and skirt
that was still not completely smoothed down. I banged my knee on the fender running
around to the driver's side of the car.

Dinner progressed at an agonizingly slow pace. Mom made a meal out of ordering and
savored every bite after it came. The process was repeated for dessert. After that,
we had coffee and Mom ordered a second cup.

I have since learned that it's one thing when you're out on a date with an alluring
woman, hoping to get lucky, but quite another when she implies at the outset that
sex is assured. Hope makes the evening pass quickly but anticipation of a virtually
sure thing is pure torture unless you have the maturity to savor it, which I didn't
yet have. I was too worried that I'd do something to ruin a sure thing and that's
why I tried to suppress thoughts about Mom's panties in my pocket and wondering why
she had told me to fetch them. Did she not have panties on under the black skirt,
did she want me to put them on her, later, in the car?

Every gesture, the shape of Mom's mouth and the way her lips moved when she spoke
or smiled, the crook of her neck, all drove me nuts. My cock was already hard from
my lecherous thoughts and Mom's unintentional teasing made it tingle many times during
the evening. I watched her every step of the way to and from the lady's room, and
when I made the trip myself, I found it difficult to walk on the way back when I saw
Mom, twisted sideways in her seat with her legs crossed, one foot tapping to the music,
as she watched the belly dancer.

It wasn't Lady Alexandra but after the dance she showed up, thanked the dancer and
announced that Milo's had a special treat in store for everyone. She stopped by our
table to ask Mom if she was ready.

"No, Carol. I'm not going to dance here tonight."

"But Lisa, you promised to do the Dance of the Seven Veils. Didn't you practice?"


"You know I did," Mom replied. She looked at me and added, "But now I know I can't
do it for just anyone."

Lady Alexandra looked at me. "You mean, it's only for your son?"

Mom gazed steadily at Lady Alexandra. "I think you knew that when you first asked
me to do it."

Carol just smiled.

"I'll give the costumes back after dinner."

"There's no hurry. Bring them around whenever it's convenient."

"They're in the car."

"There's no rush," Lady Alexandra insisted.

"We'll bring them when I'm done my coffee."

"Suit yourself. I'll be waiting."

The waiter came round not long after with some licorice candies and said the dinner
was on the house, compliments of Lady Alexandra. Mom sent me out to the car with instructions
to bring the bags in the trunk to Lady Alexandra's room. I fetched them but Mom and
Carol weren't in the back, they were sitting in one of the two alcoves on either side
of the entrance to the restaurant. Carol took the bag with the costumes.

"Can you give me a minute alone with your mother?" she asked.

I answered affirmatively and she motioned for me to wait in the opposite alcove so
I went there and sat down, watching the two attractive women speak quietly to one
another in confidence. At first, I thought it was just background babble from the
restaurant but then I realized it was the conversation taking place in the opposite
alcove, reaching me via the curved roof.

"I thought you had decided against it," Lady Alexandra said.

"Oh God, Carol. I'm all over the map. First I'm cold, then I'm shamelessly coming
on to him. It's ridiculous. It can't go on like this."

"It is hard."

"I just don't want to put Curtis through the same things you said Mark went through."


"It was different for Mark. When he got married, he was leaving me behind, alone again.
Curtis will just leave you with your husband again."

"He knows that will be leaving me alone. He's a smart boy."

"Yes, well, would you rather break his heart now? He loves you, as a woman. I can
see it every time he looks at you."

"I know."

"You can't just stop after giving him such a tasty mouthful. He'll never forget and
will always wonder what it would have been like."

Mom looked away from Carol and she leaned toward Mom. "Oh my God, Lisa. You haven't?"
There was a shocked pause. "You have!"

Carol straightened up and glanced toward me while Mom was still looking away. She
looked pleased.

"Then you must continue, Lisa, for his sake. Think of him. You can't break it off.
You must let him tire of you. You understand that, don't you."

"Yes, I guess so. But it's so dangerous."

"You're a grown woman. You can manage it."

"I don't know, Carol."

"Yes, you do. Now go. Your son is waiting to take you home."

Mom looked across the entrance at me and smiled. I smiled back and got up when she
did. As Mom walked toward me, Carol looked over her shoulder and smiled, a secretive,
knowing smile. Years later, when my wife and I were visiting the cathedral in Avignon,
we overheard the conversation of another couple standing opposite us at least fifty
feet away as if we were standing right next to them. I wondered then if Lady Alexandra
knew I could hear the conversation between her and Mom. I'm almost positive now she
did.

Mom didn't want to see the city lights on the way home but the house was dark and
Dad had already gone to bed when we arrived. My hopes surged but Mom began removing
her earrings as she headed for the stairs, already getting ready for bed.

"Stay downstairs, Curtis. I want to talk to you."

There was an air of finality about Mom's voice.

"Can't it wait until tomorrow. I'm kind of tired."

I wasn't sure I was ready to hear what Mom had to say. At least, not tonight. Her
tone made me think she had changed her mind about Carol's advice. If she waited for
another day, maybe she would change her mind again. Like she had said to Carol, she
was all over the map. Tomorrow was another day and might be sunnier than this one.


"Well, get changed and then come back downstairs. What I have to say can't wait until
tomorrow. It has to be said tonight."

I really didn't like the sound of that. I followed Mom up the stairs and she seemed
irked that I wasn't staying downstairs as she asked. I watched the sway of her hips
and the muscles tensing in alternate calves as if it was the last time I would be
able to savor their grace. I wanted to touch her, to grasp her waist and tell her
not to be silly, that she should let me hold her and kiss her. Instead, I went meekly
to my room and changed out of my good clothes. I put on my pajamas and, expecting
the worst, wrapped a bathrobe around me and went downstairs to wait for Mom.

I was sitting in Dad's chair so I didn't see Mom until her bare foot negotiated the
last stair, seeming to pause in mid-air as if to allow me to appreciate its elegance
one last time. My breath caught in my mouth when I noticed Mom wasn't wearing a robe
like I expected. Her hair was still done up and she was wearing the green dress!

"Stand up, Curtis."

I got up, apprehensive and wishing I had remained in my good clothes, yet eager. Mom
took my hand and led me out of the living room and into the dark kitchen. Once through
the door, Mom pulled the pocket door closed, providing a sound break from the rest
of the house. Did she expect me to cry or react angrily to what she had to say?

Mom walked to the breakfast island and put a foot up on the bottom rung of one of
the stools.

"You need to understand something about me, Curtis."

"I already know, Mom."

Mom was annoyed by the interruption.

"No Curtis, you don't," she snapped.

I shrugged. This wasn't going to be good, green dress notwithstanding.

"I'm going to be frank."

If Mom had smoked, I would have pictured her taking a long drag on a cigarette and
blowing smoke at me before her next words.

"I loved your father very much. At least, I thought I did, but after a few years I
realized I was more enamored with the thought of being married than the act. I had
been playing house and I was too uptight to enjoy myself…in bed. I didn't like the
things your father wanted to do. I thought they were lewd but might have gone along
if he wasn't so clumsy. If he'd been more sensitive and I'd been less prudish…but
I wasn't and neither was he, and then he quit trying. By the time I realized it, we
had killed what little passion there had been in our marriage."

Mom paused to let her words sink in, then continued. I almost coughed in the imaginary
smoke.

"You father and I lived for years, with fondness, but basically just going through
the motions. Your father sought satisfaction elsewhere and I pretended not to know.
I was a disinterested wife but a happy mother who was glad he was distracted."

I nodded sagely as if I knew where Mom was going with all this.

"Then I met Carol. She had lived a completely different life, consumed by a passionate
relationship with her husband, but then he was gone, dead from a sudden heart attack.
Her life became empty and she was ready to end it but her son saved her."

"I thought her husband left her?" I blurted.

Mom looked surprised by my ignorance.

"No, he died. Anyway, Mark was beside himself with worry and started doing everything
as Carol became more and more depressed, cooking, cleaning, even dressing and undressing
her. She relied on him for everything and one night, while he was putting her to bed,
he reacted to her as a woman rather than his ailing mother."

Mom took a deep breath and I wondered if she paused to let that last bit sink in.


"Nothing happened, of course. Mark didn't actually do anything, but they both knew
what each other had felt and it made Carol feel like a woman again. She said it felt
like magic."

"Anyway, that's when Carol began dancing for Mark. She told him it was to provide
affordable entertainment for the restaurant and even believed that herself, at first,
but things started to happen and, in the end, Carol couldn't stop herself from making
them happen."

Mom took another deep breath.

"So…I think you know how that story applies to us. I was in a rut, looking for something
that could inject some excitement in my life. I started belly dancing because Jenny
said it was really good exercise without being boring. So I tried it. One day, Carol
was the special guest for our class and she asked me to join her for a coffee later."


Mom paused.

"She saw something in me, she said, that would make me a great belly dancer. I wanted
to believe her because I needed something new in my life so I leapt at the chance
when she offered me private lessons."

"I improved quickly under Carol's tutelage but the time came when Carol said to get
better I needed to perform. I loved dancing with others in class but was afraid to
do it for people who were just watching. Carol said she had felt the same but her
son, who had been so helpful with everything else, came to the rescue and she thought
that would be the best option for me too. I explained that my situation wasn't the
same, that I had no restaurant I needed to provide entertainment for, but Carol suggested
I simply let you 'discover' me practising."

"I didn't want to but I did. You came home much earlier than I expected and I was
truly was surprised. I was very nervous. I thought you might laugh at me but your
reaction made me feel so good about myself. I felt alive, like a woman again, and
that's a powerful drug for a woman, one that's very hard to control. It wasn't hard
to convince myself to let you surprise me again and, after that, I was hooked. I pretended
it was just a little harmless flirting to wash my guilt away."

"Carol and I became friends and we confided in each other. She told me more about
her relationship with her son. I was shocked but intrigued. I talked you into taking
me for dinner because I wanted to go on a 'date' with you the way Carol said Mark
did with her just to get her out and about. I lost control but now I've come to my
senses."

Mom looked at me and I waited for her to go on but she didn't. Her eyes welled up
with tears.

"Being a good mother was all I had and I threw it away on a middle-age crisis. What
must you think of me? How can you remember me as your mother rather than a desperate
slut?"

I started to go to her but Mom shook her head and stiffened, holding her hand up in
an emphatic gesture to stop. She dropped her foot from the rung and straightened up.


"So, I've come to a decision."

Shit, she wasn't even going to let me argue my case. I spoke up anyway but Mom shushed
me.

"Come here," she said.

I stepped close to Mom but as soon as I got near she turned her back to me.

"Put your arms around me," she said.

I put my arms around Mom's shoulders but she pushed my hands down and pulled them
around her waist and snuggled them around her belly. I tried not to think about the
weight of her round, unrestrained breasts sagging on my forearms.

I shook my head and told myself to smarten up. Mom was obviously upset and this couldn't
be easy for her. I told myself to give her a nice hug and to comfort her with soothing
words that demonstrated my understanding. Don't be selfish, for Christ's sake. I leaned
forward to nestle my head against Mom's and hugged her tight.

"I don't think I can dance for you anymore, Curtis."

"That's okay, Mom."

I nuzzled the back of her head.

"You like my hair done up, don't you?"

"Yes," I agreed. "Your neck is so graceful."

It was the truth but it didn't hurt to compliment her on something so fine as the
delicate beauty of her neck.

"I'm trying to think of what we can do that will be proper but still allow us to remain
close. I think wearing dresses that you like, and doing my hair the way you like it,
would be okay, don't you think?"

"Sure, Mom. I don't see why not."

"And you can hug me like this. That should be okay."

I squeezed Mom tighter in silent agreement but pulled my hips back because there were
already rustlings down south due to the soft impact of her behind.

"And you could kiss me on the cheek."

Mom tilted her head to the left and I dutifully applied a light brushing of my lips
to her right jaw.

"And my neck, since you like it so much."

I hesitated for a second or two, partly because that caught me off guard and partly
because I was afraid to kiss the nape of Mom's neck because she was right, I did love
her neck, but it was more sensual than I cared to admit at that moment.

"You can kiss it, if you want to," Mom whispered.

I tilted my head forward and tentatively dropped my lips onto the crook of Mom's neck.
I kissed it briefly.

"Don't be shy. It's one of the things you can do."

I nibbled Mom's neck and quickly withdrew.

"You can do it as much as you want, when we're alone," Mom giggled.

Her light-heartedness encouraged me and I brushed my lips the full length of Mom's
shoulder, back and forth several times. Mom reacted as if tickled, flinching and pushing
her behind against my groin. I pulled away.

"Don't let me fall," Mom complained. "That makes me a little weak in the knees."

I nestled up against Mom's back, renewing contact with her behind.

"That's better. Kiss the other side."

I caressed the other shoulder, then switched back to the right without waiting to
be asked. I also kissed both of Mom's cheeks and even nibbled her right ear.

"Oh. You haven't done that before but I guess it's okay."

I nibbled Mom's left ear, kissed her shoulder, and returned to the right. Mom flinched
several times from the lightness of my lips and pressed her behind against me each
time.

"You know what your father used to want me to do?"

I didn't want to know but I also wanted Mom to keep talking so I could keep doing
things with her.

"What?" I murmured.

"He always wanted me to turn over."

"Turn over?"

"Yes, so he could get behind me, like you are now, except we were lying down."

"Oh."

"Press against me."

"What?"

"Press against me."

I pressed firmly against Mom's behind."

"Harder."

I pressed harder and my bulge nudged between Mom's cheeks.

"That's it, like that. I always wondered why he wanted to do it that way. I thought
he didn't want to look at me anymore and it made me feel bad about myself."

"Oh."

I wondered why Mom would have thought that. Women think differently than men.

"Carol thought that was hilarious."

"You told Carol?"

"Yes. I told you, we became confidants. Keep pressing."

I pulled my robe open and pressed my bulge into Mom's ass and she rolled it against
my pajamas.

"It feels nice the way you do it but your father was too rough."

I rubbed too hard and my arms slipped up above the counter, pressing directly onto
the front of Mom's breasts.

"Oops, sorry Mom."

"That's okay. Maybe if your father had done that, it might have turned out differently."


"Why?"

"Because…you know, my breasts are so sensitive."

"Right, I forgot."

"You can touch them if you want to."

Had I heard that right?

"Touch them," Mom said.

I opened my arms so I could get my hands on Mom's dress. Carefully, I pressed my open
palms lightly against the front of her dress.

"Not just the dress, silly."

I found Mom's breasts and squeezed.

"Oh yes. Maybe if your father had done that, I might have stayed on my tummy for him."


I squeezed Mom's breasts again, found the bumps her nipples under the dress, and let
my fingers bunch the material around them. I can't describe how exhilerating it was
to feel the round weight of Mom's breasts. I swept away the nagging feeling that I
wouldn't be strong enough to handle the disappointment when I reached the point where
Mom would draw the line. After all, I was already past where I thought it would lie.


"Try it inside."

Despite the surprise of already advancing further than expected, I didn't wait for
Mom to repeat the instruction. I crossed my arms and slipped my hands inside the deeply
cut bodice of the green dress, right hand on left tit and left hand on the right.
I squeezed and this time, when I pinched, I found her erect nipples and tugged them
outward. Mom sucked her breath in hard, and I ground my groin into her ass, finding
a pleasing, rolling acceptance.

"Ohhh baby, if your father had done this I definitely would have let him turn me over."


I was annoyed by the mention of my father again so I pulled and squeezed Mom's tits
and teased and tugged her nipples while grinding my cock into her accommodating ass
and nibbled on her neck and ears, trying to make her forget about him. Mom raised
her hands, pulled her hair apart, and shook it out. It was a simple act of abandon
and the thrill of it jolted me into more fervent rubbing of her behind, rocking her
forward onto the counter.

Abruptly, Mom pushed against the counter and shoved me off. I stood, shocked and opened-armed,
wavering two feet behind her, the tent in my pajamas now huge. Mom turned toward me
but didn't look me in the face.

"I'm sorry, Curtis, but I just can't," she cried, scurrying to the kitchen door. She
yanked the pocket door open and ran through the door, but into the living room rather
than upstairs.

I followed. I felt terrible about what I'd done, even though Mom seemed to have encouraged
it, and wanted to apologize. She said herself that her feelings were hard to control.
I saw her in the darkness, standing in front of the couch, facing the wall. Her shoulders
shook. She was crying. I stepped cautiously toward her.

"Mom? Are you okay? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

Mom didn't answer but her shoulders shook as if my presence caused her further grief.
Nevertheless, I quietly approached her and put my hands on the outside of her shoulders
to steady them, hoping to constrain the sorrow welling up inside her.

My knees bumped the back of Mom's. She kneeled on the couch and leaned braced herself
with her hands against the back of the couch. Her head tilted forward until it touched
the wall. Her shoulders were racked with another bout of grief and the pain of it
stabbed me in the heart. A huge urge to console Mom overwhelmed me and I was about
to kneel behind her, to gather her into my arms, when she did something that stopped
me in my tracks.

Mom reached back and put her hands on her supple buttocks, then pulled the green dress
up until her bottom was half bare, clearly showing in the muted light the lack of
panties to contain her quivering cheeks. What the hell?

Mom was laughing, her shoulders quietly heaving. She was laughing! Her head swiveled
around to face me and I saw the sparkle of mirth in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Curtis. I couldn't help myself. You were so serious it was funny."

Mom's smile faded and her eyes turned apologetic.

"But it really is true that I've never had it from behind. Is it really good that
way?"

To say I was dumbfounded is an enormous understatement. Mom had been playing with
me the whole time. I picked my jaw up from the floor. Though her expression was apologetic,
I sensed she was still teasing me.

"Unzip my dress, baby."

I reached out to the back of the green dress to search for the zipper while looking
down as Mom's hands slid higher, baring all of her buttocks. They swept out from her
waist to form two slightly sagging yet supple half pears of flesh surrounding the
most inviting divide. I fumbled for a ridiculously long time with the zipper, not
sparing a single glance to find it. Eventually I succeeded and pulled it down.

"Hold my tits, baby," Mom demanded more than asked but I defied her, grasping two
handfuls of meaty buttock and squeezing harder than I should have, especially after
hearing her complain about how rough my father was. I grunted my appreciation for
her quivering flesh and spread her cheeks.

"Don't worry about being noisy, baby. I gave your father a sleeping pill before we
left for Milo's."

I didn't care. Nothing could stop me now, not even if my father came down the stairs
at that moment. I slapped each cheek, then slipped my hands inside the green dress
and around the front to cup Mom's bare tits. They fell into my hands, firm and alive,
with hard, fiery nipples. Mom moaned as my fingers closed around them and her hands
reached beyond her ass to pull my pajamas down, freeing my hardness which sprang lustfully
against her cheeks with an audible smack.

"Is it so wrong of me, baby, to want you so much?"

"No," I gasped.

"To want your love inside me?"

"No," I rasped.

"To feel your cock?"

I grunted.

"From behind?" Mom gasped.

I pushed into Mom's ass, between her cheeks, felt my tip slide down until she widened
and I fell into her puffy lips, settling on her groove and pushed in, skidding through
her wetness, finding her hole and slithering inside, sensing squeezing resistance.
I pushed, forcing her channel to accept my swollen penis as Mom moaned and hung her
head. I thrust upward until I was buried, pressing her ass flesh forward, and dropped
my mouth onto the nape of Mom's neck, biting. Mom reared her head up and I withdrew
my cock, then slammed it up it a forceful thrust that lifted her off her knees.

"Take me hard, baby," she cried.

I launched into her, out of my mind, feverishly banging her behind, oblivious of the
slapping sounds that should have alarmed us both. I grasped Mom's poor tits and squeezed
hard, but she seemed to enjoy the roughness despite what she had said. At some point,
we fell sideways. I tried to turn Mom up to face me so I could take her the way I
had before, pushing her knees back to her shoulders, but she twisted onto her stomach
and pushed her ass up so I straddled her and buried myself to the hilt in her from
behind again, and pounded on her like I was riding a bucking filly until we were both
done.

I was too wrecked to have Mom a second time. By the time the thought occurred to me,
she was gone.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next day was Sunday. I woke up to Dad's yell to get up. I wandered down to breakfast
to find Dad alone.

"Where's Mom?"

"She isn't feeling well. You don't look so hot yourself."

"Yeah, I don't feel very good."

"Maybe you got food poisoning from that Greek place," Dad said, looking almost pleased
by the suggestion.

"Yeah, maybe. I don't think I can eat. Maybe I'll just go back to bed, like Mom."


"Take that up to her then," Dad said, nodding at a mug of coffee. "I'm going out to
the shop."

I took the mug upstairs, acting sick until I was out of Dad's sight. I wondered if
Mom was really feeling sick or if she was just tired, or maybe feeling too guilty
about last night and wanted to avoid me again.

I peeked in Mom's room before entering. She was lying on the bed, facing away. I bumped
the door open wider with the mug and quietly approached her but she heard me and stirred.
She raised her head and half-looked behind her, smiled when she saw it was me, and
pushed the covers down to her hips. I was relieved but almost spilled the coffee when
I noticed how narrow Mom's waist looked compared to the inviting, upward jut of her
hips.

"You better put that down," Mom laughed.

I did.

"Where's your father?"

"Downstairs. He said he's going out to the shop."

Mom pushed the covers over her hips, revealing a nightgown bunched up above her hips.
I stared at Mom's bare bottom. Her eyes met mine and then she turned flat onto the
bed and slid her right knee up, parting her thighs. I climbed onto the bed, turned
to look back at the open door, then pushed my pajamas down and fed my hardening cock
into Mom's waiting, aready moist slit.

"Slowly, baby, until we know he's out in his shop."

"Okay, Mom."

We fucked slow and easy for a while. It was the hardest thing I had ever done, to
not let myself go, but Mom seemed to love it.

"It feels good slow," she murmured.

When a saw finally started up in Dad's shop, I urged Mom completely onto her tummy
and straddled her thighs, kicking her legs together with my feet, and sat upon her,
my cock buried to the hilt and my hands grasping her cheeks. Mom let me position her
however I wanted, as long as it was from behind, and seemed to love it fast or slow,
rough or gentle, whatever I wanted to do.

I pushed down on Mom's back, lifted her hips off the bed and crouched over her, got
her up onto hands and knees, pushed her flat on the bed, pulled her head up by her
hair, pushed fingers into her mouth—anything I could think of, went. I especially
liked holding her little waist in both hands, emphasizing the flare of her ass and
hips. In the end, I sat astride her thighs, watching my shaft slowly appear and disappear,
until the urge overcame me and I rode her hard and fast, bucking furiously and rocking
the bed noisily. I finished her slowly, letting my cum ooze into her like a tidal
pool filling before a surging tide.

I later found out Mom loved it best when I bent her legs way back and squatted over
lewdly upturned haunches. On that afternoon, hearing Dad's tools still buzzing in
his workshop, I flipped Mom over and did her a second time just like that.

When we finished, Mom whispered, "Like I tried to tell you last night, I'm not dancing
for you after school anymore."

"No?" I responded, too exhausted to argue.

"No." Mom confirmed. "We won't have time."

I laughed with her.

"Now go away and let me rest. You've worn me out and I might not be up to more hijinks
this week anyway."

Yeah sure. Late that night, after falling asleep and sure in the knowledge I would
never want to make love to any other woman, Mom woke me up. Seems she wanted to be
on top. I loved the sound of her soft laughter and tongue in my ear as she worked
her hips up and down, ensconcing my shaft with her clasping tunnel.

"I love you, Mom."

"Of course you do."

Her tongue slipped into my ear and she gripped me tight. I was coming again but I
knew she wasn't finished and would soon have me hard again. I almost hoped she would
dance for me again. I needed the break. However, I was disappointed when the opportunity
for a break presented itself within two weeks.

"Your aunt and uncle are coming to visit for a few weeks," Mom announced at breakfast
one morning.

Mom almost laughed outright when she saw the disappointment oozing from my face. How
could we be together with Dad's sister around the house. Not only that, how would
I be able to hide my new feelings around another woman? As Mom saw the fear rising
in my eyes, and realized what it was, her expression became less amused. She knew
she could hide her feelings from Dad's sister, but could I?

I liked Uncle Tom and Aunt Beth. She was a lot like my father. His kid sister was
stiff and proper just like he was but she was quite attractive in her own way. She
ran the show at home and her affable husband pretty much knew it. If the past was
any guide, he would want Dad to take him fishing and golfing, anything to get away,
and that would leave Aunt Beth at home with us. I was looking at a sexual desert for
the duration of their stay.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I couldn't have been more wrong.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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