Chapter 2

Walking into the kitchen the next morning, I approached Mom from behind, held her waist, and kissed her neck. She didn’t flinch, already accustomed to our daily routine. “Good morning, Mom. Looks like a nice day outside.”

“Morning, Steve,” she replied with a smile. “It’ll allow you more time to tackle the yard work. I’d like us to finish our weekend chores before your sister arrives, so we can spend as much time with her as possible.”

Once the table was set and the meal served, we sat down to eat, enjoying a bit of light conversation. After a while, I asked, “Did Mia tell you what time to expect her?”

“Dinner reservations are at seven, and she’s planning on being here around five,” Mom explained. “That should give us plenty of time to finish everything, as long as we don’t linger too long over lunch.”

Finishing my last bite, I said, “I’d better get started, then. Want me to help clean up the kitchen before I head out?”

“No need,” she replied with a reassuring smile. “You focus on the outdoor chores, and I’ll handle everything inside. I’ll have sandwiches ready by noon.”

After changing into my work clothes, I headed outside to tend to the yard maintenance. By the time lunch rolled around, I’d made good progress and eagerly joined Mom for a quick lunch. My excitement about Mia’s return only grew as I went outside to finish up.

The afternoon sun bore down as I worked up a sweat, determined to have everything perfect. The time was nearly five, the time Mia was due home before I completed everything. Surveying my work, I felt a wave of satisfaction, seeing the immaculate landscaping. Stowing the tools in their place, I wiped my brow and headed inside, eager to prepare for Mia’s arrival.

Upon entering the house, I found Mom finishing up her vacuuming. She turned it off and faced me, her expression heavy with sadness. Her tearful eyes immediately set off alarm bells, and I asked gently, “Mom, is everything alright?”

With a shaky voice, she replied, “Mia’s been held up at work and won’t be coming home after all.”

The disappointment in her voice made my heart sink, burdened by both Mom’s despondent state and the wave of despair that washed over me. Seeing how visibly shaken she was, I stepped forward and wrapped her in a hug, cradling her head against my shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Mom,” I murmured, stroking her back. “I know how much you looked forward to seeing her. When did she call?”

“Several hours ago,” she replied. “I didn’t think it’d do any good to interrupt you. She asked for you, but when I told her you were outside, she said she’d send you a message, not wanting to interfere with your work.”

“I’ll read it later. How about if we shower and I’ll fix a nice dinner for you?” I asked, hoping to cheer her up.

“No. Mia insisted that we dine out as planned. She was persistent, and I finally agreed to abide by her wishes,” she explained, her voice growing steadier as I continued to console her with my embrace. Inhaling deeply, she caught a whiff of my sweaty skin and added with a playful smirk, “But we definitely need to shower first.”

We both chuckled, the tension easing as we released each other and headed to our rooms to get ready for her birthday dinner. Before doing anything else, I grabbed my phone and read Mia’s message: “Sorry, sweetie. Ran into some problems. Dress nicely for tonight and pick burgundy lipstick. Talk to you Sunday night at seven.”

I re-read her cryptic note several times, still baffled by the suggestion of wearing lipstick. Shaking my head, I remembered the present Mia had sent me for Mom. Retrieving the box from my closet, I opened it, only to find its contents adding to my confusion. Unsure of when to give it to Mom, I placed it on my bed.

After shaving and a refreshing shower, I chose my best dress slacks and a crisp, long-sleeve shirt. Despite my usual disdain for ties, I looped one around my neck and tied it neatly. Tonight wasn’t about me—it was about making Mom’s birthday special. She always loved seeing me dressed up, and I hoped the effort would brighten her mood.

After a quick glance in the mirror to ensure everything was just right, I headed out to the living room and settled on the couch. Scrolling through my phone to pass the time, I nearly lost track of it when, twenty minutes later, Mom’s voice called out, “Steve, could you lend me a hand?”

Curious about what she needed, I climbed the stairs and made my way to her room at the end of the hallway. When I entered, she stood in front of her full-length mirror, her back to me. “I’m having trouble with the zipper,” she explained, glancing at me in the reflection.

The navy-blue, satiny fabric of her dress shimmered under the light, but the open back revealed a zipper stuck halfway up. “No problem, Mom. I’ve never understood why women’s clothes are made like this—it seems overly complicated.”

She chuckled softly, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “Not my first choice either, but Mia insisted I wear it, so here we are.”

I stepped closer, carefully gripping the zipper. “Alright, let’s fix this.” Seeing that it was caught on a piece of fabric, I lowered the zipper several inches, revealing more of her back. Once free, I slowly pulled upward, admiring her smooth, satiny flesh along the way. Noticing no bra strap, I reasoned that the dress had some sort of built-in support. Soon, the material stretched tightly, halting my progress. “I think your dress is too small, Mom. I can’t zip it up any higher.”

Seeing her grimace in the mirror, my eyes drifted down to her neckline displaying the insides of her breasts. She brought her hands upward until they were underneath her breasts and shifted the material until it loosened enough I could continue with the zipper. When I finally reached the top, I said, “All done, Mom.”

She exhaled deeply as if she were holding her breath through the process. She turned and faced me, her face blushing. My eyes quickly discovered the reason, noticing her dress struggling to contain her bulging, milky mounds. I couldn’t help myself from staring and smiling—hoping one or both would pop out.

“I can’t go out like this,” she sighed, her voice heavy with frustration. “The dress is clearly too small, and while I hate to disappoint her, I just don’t feel comfortable being seen in public like this.”

An idea struck me, and I smiled to myself. “Wait right here, Mom. I think I have the perfect fix.”

While I hurried to my room, I couldn’t help but chuckle, catching a glimpse of her confused expression when I passed by.

I grabbed her gift from my bed and quickly returned to her side. Handing it to her with a grin, I said, “Happy birthday, Mom.”

Her eyebrows arched in curiosity as she took the gift from my hands. “What’s this?” she asked, her voice tinged with surprise.

Her eyes lit up as she gasped, holding up the soft, silver, satin shawl, exclaiming, “Oh, Steve! It’s beautiful! And exactly what I need!”

I watched as she draped the shawl over her shoulders, the fabric shimmering under the light. She adjusted it slightly and turned to face me, her face beaming with gratitude. “I can’t believe you thought of this. It’s perfect!”

I shrugged with a grin. “Mia may have had a little hand in it, but I’m glad it worked out.”

Mom chuckled softly, her tone warm with appreciation. “You both know me so well. Thank you, sweetie.” She leaned and kissed me on the cheek. “One quick check and we’ll be ready to go,” she said, settling into her makeup chair. She extended her hand, offering her brush. “Would you mind finishing my hair while I touch up my makeup?”

I moved behind her, took her brush, and gently worked it through her silky, fine hair, the strands slipping smoothly between my fingers with each stroke. “I love your hair, Mom. The rich, brown color matches your beautiful eyes perfectly.”

She blushed, a soft smile spreading across her face as she giggled. “Aren’t you the flatterer?” “Just the facts, Ma’am,” I replied, causing us to burst into laughter.

“One final step,” Mom said, sifting through her collection of lipsticks.

Recalling Mia’s message, I quickly spotted the perfect shade, reached around her, and grabbed it. “This one will complement your dress.”

“You’re right. It’s perfect,” she agreed, taking the lipstick and applying it delicately across her full lips. After a few careful adjustments, she turned her head side-to-side, assessing her finished look. “All done. Let’s go.”

Arriving at the restaurant, I approached the hostess and provided her the name for our reservation: Mia Wilson. She recognized it right away and responded, “Yes, we’ve been expecting you. She called earlier, informing us she couldn’t make it. We’ve set up the perfect table for your celebration. Please follow me, Mr. and Mrs. Wilson.”

Before I could correct her, she briskly walked ahead, and Mom seemed unfazed, linking her arm through mine as we followed her. The table was nestled in a quiet corner, illuminated by a soft candlelight and accented with a single red rose in a vase beside it. As I helped Mom into her chair, she gazed around and smiled. “So romantic. It’s a beautiful setting.”

After settling in, I replied, “Definitely. Leave it to Mia to reserve the best table.”

Our waitress soon arrived, introducing herself as Julia, and asked for our drink preferences. When Mom hesitated, I suggested, “Lydia, why don’t you have a glass of wine? I’m driving, so I’ll stick to iced tea.”

She smiled and ordered the house red. Before she left, Julia added, “Mia wanted to make sure you know she’s picking up the entire tab. At her request, we’ve had menus printed without prices. Feel free to order anything you desire.”

As we scanned the selections, Mom commented, “Everything looks so delicious. Even though Mia isn’t here, I feel her wonderful presence. She’s so thoughtful.”

“She really is,” I agreed, my thoughts drifting to how much Mia’s influence had enriched my life.

After taking our order, Julia headed to the kitchen and returned twenty minutes later, just before our food arrived. Walking behind Mom’s chair, she gently placed her hands on Mom’s shoulders. “Please, let me take your shawl so it’s not in your way. I’ll safely stow it and return it before you leave,” she offered.

Mom was momentarily caught off guard, a flush of pink creeping up her neck, but she nodded and replied, “Of course. Thanks for offering.”

With great care, Julia unwrapped the shawl, holding it delicately as she added, “Such a beautiful piece. I’ll take good care of it.”

After she left, my gaze focused on her bulging, exposed mounds, her tight dress barely concealing her nipples. Once the food arrived, I alternated between her lovely face and her jiggling breasts as we enjoyed the delicious entrees. Partway through the meal, Julia noticed Mom’s empty glass, and asked, “Would you like a refill?”

Before Mom could respond, I quickly replied, “Yes, please.”

After Julia walked away with Mom’s empty glass, Mom remarked, “I’m not sure if I should have another.”

“It’s your birthday, Mom. Relax and enjoy the evening,” I urged.

Mom smiled, shaking her head with a playful chuckle. “Lydia,” she said softly.

We both laughed as Julia returned with a fresh glass of wine.

Throughout the meal, Julia’s attentive presence and infectious smile added warmth to our evening. Though I knew she relied on tips as part of her salary, her interactions felt genuine, as if she truly enjoyed making our experience special. She struck up conversations with Mom, effortlessly lifting her spirits. Julia’s focus on Mom, rather than me, made the evening even better—it was clear she wanted Mom to feel celebrated.

By the time we were nearly finished, the wine’s effects on Mom were undeniable. Her laughter had grown louder, and her playful demeanor filled our cozy corner with joy. She bantered and joked with Julia as if they were old friends, perhaps momentarily filling the void left by Mia’s absence. While I was glad to see Mom so happy, I couldn’t shake a twinge of worry. Encouraging that a second glass of wine might have been a mistake, I silently resolved not to nudge her further if she considered another. Still, seeing her so carefree made the evening feel like a success.

After Julia whisked away our finished plates, she returned with a large slice of cheesecake, a single lit candle perched atop it, and two forks resting on either side. Mom watched, puzzled, as Julia set it down in front of us.

“Congratulations,” Julia chirped cheerfully.

Mom’s face shifted to one of curiosity as she let out a nervous giggle. “Thanks. I’m thankful you only used one candle,” she joked.

Julia, visibly confused, asked, “Oh dear, did I make a mistake? Mia explained that tonight marked your first anniversary and specifically ordered the dessert with one candle. Did I mishear her?”

Mom’s face softened into a smirk, realizing that Mia had pulled a prank on her, which was somewhat of a tradition she repeated on Mom’s birthdays. Normally, she would have corrected the misunderstanding, but the effect of the wine was evident. Instead, she smiled and said, “No. It’s perfect. Thanks so much.”

Julia smiled brightly and left, leaving us in amused silence. Mom and I exchanged glances, and without missing a beat, we chuckled and said in unison, “Mia.”

We took turns savoring each bite of the rich, velvety cheesecake, stretching the moment as if it could somehow extend the evening. As we polished off the last morsel, Julia reappeared, her ever-present smile lighting up her face. This time, she held her phone in hand.

“Scoot your chairs together, you two—Mia’s orders,” she said, her cheerful tone making it impossible to resist.

Caught slightly off guard, Mom and I exchanged amused glances but complied, sliding our chairs closer until our shoulders touched. Julia’s enthusiasm was infectious, and we couldn’t help but laugh as we posed for the photo she insisted on capturing.

“Mia insisted you two kiss to seal your first anniversary,” she said, her playful tone matched by the mischievous sparkle in her eyes as she held up her phone, ready to snap the moment.

“Oh, we prefer to save our displays of affection for when we’re alone. It feels so much more intimate and romantic that way,” Mom responded, in an attempt to save the charade without revealing our true relationship.

Julia tilted her head, her face transforming into a picture of exaggerated disappointment. “Please?” she implored, her pleading expression tugging at our hearts. “Mia would love it—it’s her special request.”

Mom hesitated for a moment before breaking into a lighthearted laugh. “Well, if it’s for Mia,” she relented, glancing at me with an amused twinkle in her eye. She leaned towards me and kissed me gently. Her eyes and mouth were sealed shut, unwilling to progress any further than necessary. After a few seconds, she pulled back and faced Julia.

Julia, her face still saddened, leaned in close to us and whispered, “I wasn’t supposed to divulge this but Mia hinted that my tip was dependent on how romantic you two kissed. Could you spice it up a bit? If it really bothers you, I understand. I wouldn’t want to pressure you into something you’re uncomfortable with just so I receive a bigger tip.”

Mom hesitated, her eyes darting between me and Julia, her thoughts clearly racing as she considered how to navigate the moment. Then, suddenly, her smile broadened, and she relented, “Well, in that case, I think it’s only fitting that we make sure Mia gives you the biggest tip ever—especially since you’ve officially become my favorite waitress of all time.”

Julia beamed, her earlier pout replaced with pure delight. “That’s the spirit!” she exclaimed, holding her phone up again. “Now, let’s make this picture unforgettable!”

Mom’s eyes remained open this time as our lips pressed together. We moved our lips around, enjoying the feel of each other’s mouths. Mom’s tongue jabbed through my lips as her mouth opened. I reciprocated, my tongue finding hers as our kiss intensified. Her hands reached up and held my head to hers while I did the same, running my fingers through her scalp.

Hot air rushed out of our nostrils as we struggled to breathe. Mom’s eyes, showing the effects of alcohol also displayed a lust I hadn’t seen in her before. My prick stiffened as we French kissed, staring into each other’s souls. All too soon, Mom withdrew her tongue and eased off, remaining within an inch of my face. Her hungry eyes pleaded for more and I took the chance and pulled her to me again. Our second kiss was just as intense as the first, lasting several minutes before we finally disconnected.

Once we settled back into our chairs, Julia hurried over and handed Mom a napkin. Mom giggled softly as she reached over, gently wiping away the lipstick smeared on my lips and the surrounding area. The tender smile on her face and the delicate care with which she dabbed at my sensitive skin sent a shiver down my spine, the moment unexpectedly intimate.

When she finished, Julia had already moved behind Mom, gracefully wrapping her shawl around her shoulders. “That was fantastic!” Julia exclaimed, her enthusiasm shining through. “If she doesn’t love that, there’s simply no pleasing her. You two make such a lovely couple, and I have to say, I haven’t enjoyed serving anyone more than you tonight. Thank you both so much for coming—it’s been a real pleasure.”

After bidding her farewell, Mom and I made our way to the car. The drive home was filled with laughter as we joked about the generous tip Mia would have to cover, reliving the evening’s highlights and the unexpected joy it brought us both.

When I helped Mom out of the car, she wavered slightly, her tipsy state evident. She leaned on me for support as we made our way into the house.

Once inside, she slurred, “I really wish we had a bit more wine to cap off the perfect day.”

If she drank any more, she might regret it in the morning. But it was her birthday, and she deserved to enjoy herself. I offered, “Mom, Mia had me pick up a bottle when I bought the groceries. Once I change, I’ll pour us a couple of glasses, and we can celebrate your birthday in style. Sound good?”

“Bravo!” she exclaimed, her tone suddenly more lively and cheerful.

We headed to our rooms to change, each of us looking forward to rounding out the evening.

By the time Mom returned, I had already set two glasses of wine on the coffee table, along with a plate of cheese and crackers. We both sank into the couch in our robes, raising our glasses for a toast. She smiled and said, “Here’s to the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

“Here’s to that, Mom,” I replied, clinking my glass with hers. After taking a sip, we set them down and began sampling the snacks while watching a sitcom. We barely noticed the TV as we rehashed the evening.

When I mentioned how nice Julia had been to us, Mom smirked and said, “You know she has a crush on you, don’t you?”

“Julia? No way,” I responded quickly. “She was just being nice to us for a bigger tip.”

Mom chuckled softly, her expression knowingly amused. “Trust me, from a woman’s point of view, I can tell. Her eyes lit up when she looked at you. She was trying to play it cool because she thought we were married, celebrating our anniversary. If that hadn’t been the case, she would’ve flirted with you all night long. I like her. Not only is she smart and pretty, but now I can see she has good taste in men.” She grinned mischievously, a slight giggle escaping as she enjoyed my discomfort.

I blushed and took another sip of wine, hoping to steer the conversation in a different direction.

Once the snacks were finished, we drained the last of our wine. After a few quiet moments, Mom turned to me, her smile softening, and asked, “Could we have a refill? Please?”

Her playful, pouty expression and the fact that she seemed less tipsy than I’d initially thought made it hard to refuse. I rose, grabbed the bottle, and returned to pour us both another glass. “Last one, Mom. I don’t want a hangover tomorrow.”

“Of course,” she agreed with a nod. “I’m having such a great time tonight, I just don’t want it to end.” She lifted her glass, took a generous sip, and set it down with a satisfied sigh.

Another half hour passed, the glasses empty again, and Mom was content to simply cuddle as we continued watching a comedy.

She wrapped her arm around me, and leaned into me, resting her head against me. I placed my hand on her waist and held her against me as she relaxed. “So warm and cozy,” she murmured, nestling her head into my robe onto my hairy chest. “Feeling your heart beating while you hold me makes me feel so good and secure.”

We fell silent as we watched the show and after a few minutes, I felt her hand on my knee. She explored my upper leg, caressing and stroking my flesh. Soon, her hand disappeared underneath my robe, as she ventured higher, squeezing my thigh before pausing. Her slower and deeper breathing led me to believe she was nearly asleep.

Seizing the opportunity, I gently placed my hand on her leg. When she had repositioned herself into me, she crossed one leg over the other, causing her robe to slide off her upper leg. Having free reign of her thighs, my hand explored her soft, smooth flesh.

When her hand ventured higher, stopped, and squeezed, I repeated her action, my fingertips tracing along the underside of her thigh until they found her rounded ass cheeks. My prick hardened, knowing Mom hadn’t bothered with panties. I wondered if she was totally nude underneath her robe, causing more blood to flow into my cock.