Having feared and anticipated this moment, Gary spoke nervously, "It is certainly hot in here isn't it mother? Why don't you take your blouse off?" His eyes were wide as he stared intensely into my own and it seemed like he was ready for the expected disgusted response.
It took me a few seconds to get my own nerve up before answering as I had planned, "Do you think it would help Gary? It is hot in here!" My hands rose to the buttons running down the front of my silk white blouse and I wondered if my son noticed them trembling. Incidentally, I was hot - but mostly from my fast beating heart from anticipating this moment.
He sat staring incredibly as I unfastened each of the small discrete buttons until I pulled the tails out of the waistband of my skirt and pulled the shirt off my shoulders. I sat before him in my white lace brassiere and skirt.
I had to turn my head away simply to still my nerves - as his eyes feasted upon my exposed torso as if he had never seen me dressed this way before. In our home, my son often finds a reason to come into my room as I am dressed in my underthings. Though I have never sat like this at our dinner table, exposed in such a common situation, and it felt like my heart would beat through my chest.
"Feel better mom?"
I turned back toward the table, staring down at my finished supper plate. "It is - thank you honey." To hide my embarrassment, my face heating up so I knew my cheeks must be turning red, I slowly stood up and reached for our two soiled plates - silently declaring this meal done.
Just as I was walking the three steps to the kitchen sink Gary asked the next inevitable question, "Would you be more comfortable if you took off your bra mom?"
The plates clattered as I dropped them suddenly into the sink. I could not look back at my son and his intense eyes, "I wear it so often honey that it really does not bother me." Which, in fact, was false - after a long day at work, my shoulders hurt and my breasts itched within their confinement. I gained enough bravado to turn about, my buttocks against the edge of the counter to steady me, as my knees felt unsteady.
Gary looked suddenly nervous and I watched his lips open as if in slow motion, "Would you take it off if I wanted you to mom?" I could sense my son's resolve faltering and I feared that all my plans and desires for this moment may fail because I was too weak to go through with them.
My mouth was incredibly dry so my words came out rather thickly, "If you want me to do that honey, I would?"
His response was no surprise, but his eyes brightened up at my answer before he even opened his mouth, "Then take it off for me mom."
I didn't reply, but reached around behind my back with trembling hands to unhook myself from my brassiere. Gary sat frozen, mouth open, eyes glued to my chest as the straps of my undergarment slipped off my white shoulders and fell down to the tiles at my feet.
His young eyes were glued to both my large brown hard nipples.
To get away from this disconcerting scrutiny, I stepped back toward the table to continue cleaning the supper mess. Just before reaching it, I realized that my large breasts were swaying naturally to my steps and my son was in awe at the sight.
My fast beating heart fluttered with pride - it has been years since eyes looked that way at me.
I took his cup and my coffee mug into each hand when Gary spoke up finally, "You have beautiful boobs mom." I turned back toward the kitchen suddenly, mostly to hide the smile that appeared on my face. The sound of his voice left little doubt in my mind of his conviction.
Oh god! Gary was falling for this!
Returning back to the table for the place mats, Gary asked, "You are trembling mom - are you nervous?" His voice was sounding more sure of himself by the second.
I stopped at the edge of the table, conscious that my hard nipples were but a reach away from my son's hands - the swaying hard nipples the same height as my son's eyes. "I am a little nervous honey."
"Tell me why mom?"
Why not tell the truth? "It is wrong for a boy to be checking out his nearly-naked mother like this." 'This' meant the way his eyes devoured my bosoms.
He was showing more confidence by the second - good. "We are in the privacy of our home mom - no one can see us?" I nodded in agreement. "And I like your tits mom."
I let the proud smile appear upon my lips. "Thank you Gary. But you don't think they are a little old compared to girls your own age?" It was a question that needed to be asked - part of my attempt to understand why my son has looked upon me with lust these last few years. And if truth be told, my breasts were not the high firm mounds that they had been when I was Gary's age.
Gary nodded in agreement which melted my smile before he spoke up in response, "I don't know much about the boobs of the girls my 'own age' mom - but I know I like yours. A lot!" my smile quickly returned. "Would you mind if I asked you to keep them bare around the house mom?"
"All the time honey?"
He nodded for a few seconds, his eyes again glued to my nipples - one and then the other, and then back - before replying after thinking of his response, "You can dress normally if someone else is around - but I think you should go bare ... or maybe something see-through when we are alone." His eyes jerked up to look into mine and a sudden fear shot through me that he could read my dishonesty in that intense gaze. "Would that be okay with you?" This was a dangerous game I was playing.
I tried to nod in response but was could barely move - my son was asking me to stay bare from the waist up around him, how was I supposed to answer? Finally, I found the strength to answer, "If you wish Gary... ?" All the hours of conjuring up this moment, I had never anticipated this request, never imagined he fancied my body enough to look at it naked all the time. I felt giddy and pleased.
He stood slowly and awkwardly and I stole a look down to see the definite bulge in his jeans. My god! That had to hurt ... and to think, that was because of me!
My son rushed from the room, and eventually up to his room.
A strange sense of loss washed over me.
Walking about my overly large immaculate home without a top was very strange those first few hours. Especially since I was alone - Gary having barricaded himself in his room just after supper.
My body was in a strange state of arousal and embarrassment - often trembling violently at random times. My son had stared at my breasts with a hunger that I have never seen aimed my way, at least in the last decade or two.
My mind was in turmoil - telling me to forgo this crazy scheme of mine, to cover my torso and chastise my son for such blatant abuse of his loving parent. Yet it was also my mind, a very large part of it, that craved that attention - that had come up with this idea for allowing myself to be dominated in this fashion.
You see, long before my divorce to Gary's father, my mind and body began to crave things that they hadn't before - sexual things. Oh nothing too wild - and nothing involving my son, I assure you. But I started to think of sex, sex and more sex more often than I think you may believe. My husband, in the beginning, accommodated my desires - willingly mounting me almost nightly. Yet that become old, at least for him, and our physical love deteriorated with the years. The truth was, even before he stopped shoving his penis between my legs as often as I could get it, that it was unsatisfying and left me wanting - but at least it was sex.
I was a good wife - I took whatever my husband offered, finding solace with my own hand otherwise. Then the bastard surprised me by announcing that there was another woman - younger, prettier of course, and he was leaving. I was devastated. This was not how I envisioned my marriage ending.
I was left with a teenage son, a huge lonely house and without even the understanding how it had transpired.
My husband had told me these last years, in defence for not making love to me, that I was getting overweight, that he did not desire me - I accepted these as natural progressions of all marriages and hid the hurt from those statements deep inside.
I dated a few men afterwards - but all reminded me of my husband in some fashion and even the heat between my legs would not allow me to accept their offers to bed. That left me with my hand, and more frequently as the years passed, toys for all occasions, and my fantasies. With little option, I began to accept this as the best way to satisfy myself.
Gary hit puberty just before his father left - as I cleaned his bed sheets, I understood that my little boy was changing. When we were alone, I started to notice how my son looked at me - at parts of me.
That scared me - but I convinced myself it would pass, he was only a early teenager and it was simply curiosity. Some young tight-ass little thing would come along and he would never give his old fat mother another look.
A handful of years passed.
I turned down the infrequent offers of men now, coming few and far between - having steeled myself to chastity in the form of frequent masturbation. Contrary to my thoughts, Gary had not slowed down in his visual desires for me. I did not encourage him, you must understand, but I pretended ignorance.
It became more than a little flattering you should understand as well, after the initial confusion and fear wore off - that a woman who had been told by her ex-husband that she is no longer desirable should tempt a young buck is no small feat to my mind.
.... There is more of this story ...