Chapter 2

I very much needed to be fucked, but I put off Don’s half-hearted advances. I just couldn’t have sex with Don after today’s closeness with Donny. And strangely, Don’s approach didn’t excite me in the least. I just knew it wouldn’t satisfy me, this throbbing in my pussy. Don soon fell asleep, and so did I.

I awoke in the middle of the night, very thirsty. Although I couldn’t hear anything, I felt he was still downstairs. I was afraid to go down there, to be alone with him, but I went anyway. I didn’t bother with my robe, or my slippers. I simply went in my nightie and panties. Supposedly wary of crossing the line too far, I nevertheless padded barefoot downstairs dressed in a manner almost guaranteed to elicit a sexual reaction.

He wasn’t sitting on the couch. Looking at it, my mind filled with the image of me allowing my son to touch my panties while my husband read a book behind me. I could feel a tingle starting down there as the image played through my mind. Suddenly shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I fetched a drink from the kitchen, then headed back to bed. What had come over me? Getting up in the night, wandering around the house in just my nightie, hoping to excite my son? Get a grip, Paula!

Cresting the top of the stairs, I sensed rather than saw Donny, standing in the hallway between me and my bedroom door, still slightly ajar as I’d left it on my way downstairs. I froze. Donny stood there, clothed only in his pajama bottoms which did nothing to hide his excitement. I didn’t make a move to get to my room. Donny just stared a me, his eyes moving from my breasts down to my toes, lingering on my midsection.

Thinking he wanted to have a look before letting me go back to bed, I raised my hand to the laces holding the front of my nightie together. Slowly, in as sensual a manner as I could muster, I tugged the lace, pulling it undone. Donny nodded. I reached for the second lace. He nodded again. Slowly, I tugged it undone too. The front of my nightie widened, exposing the swell of my breasts. Donny nodded again. I pulled and tugged teasingly on the third lace, taking as long to untie it as both of the first two together. I could see Donny’s pajamas grow, and again when I did the fourth. Moving to the fifth and final lace, I untied it right away with a quick tug. His approval was evident in his double nod.

I pulled the nightie apart, thrusting my breasts out and up in the dim light, I turned completely around, pausing to give him a full side profile. When I faced him again, he slowly walked toward me. I closed my eyes and braced my tits for his touch. This was crazy! Don could get up and come out the bedroom door at any time. We couldn’t hide, there could be no excuse.

Donny’s touch never came. Opening my eyes, I saw him looking down. Following his gaze, I saw his hand held open in front of my groin. He wanted to touch me there again. I stepped up on my toes, placed my arm gently around his shoulders and whispered in his ear.

“OK, Donny. If you really need it to relax, you can touch there, but only for a minute, and you stop when I say. Understand?” He nodded. “If you’re a good boy, I’ll let you touch me, but only when Dad’s not home. Alright?”

He nodded several times, more enthusiastically. Pulling myself up with my arm around his shoulder, I placed my panties right onto his outstretched palm and lowered my weight on it. I could feel his excitement. After a minute, instead of breaking away, I whispered in his ear again, “Move your hand. Donny. Rub it.”

I rubbed myself against his hand to give him the idea. As he began sawing his hand up and down on my panties, I kissed his ear. “That’s it, that’s it.” I kissed his ear again. I let him rub me for a couple of minutes until my rapidly increasing excitement was pierced by a jolt of reality. I pulled back quickly. He stood there panting in front of me. In a similarly breathless state, I whispered, “Good boy,” and started past him on wobbly feet. I brushed his hand away as he tried to detain me as I went my. “Tomorrow,” I whispered, and hastened into my room.

Fortunately, Don was still asleep.

Unfortunately, the next day was Friday. Donny’s schedule wouldn’t allow him to be home early, so there wouldn’t be any opportunity to follow through on my promise to let him touch me again. I knew this would bother him. He liked things to be as he expected. He always had.

At breakfast, Donny kept watching me closely, following my every move. I thought he was being very obvious but Don, of course, didn’t notice. After a while, I realized I was enjoying his attention. It had been a long time since a male had paid such rapt attention to my body. Without consciously thinking about it, I began enhancing the presentation of myself for his viewing pleasure. There in my kitchen, with my husband sitting at the table reading the morning news and eating breakfast, I flirted outrageously with my son. Though wearing just a simple housedress, I managed to feel deliciously sexy, and the rapt attention of my audience confirmed that I was exactly that — a very sexy woman. I felt like I was dancing on the edge of a knife.

“Honey?” I addressed Don. “Would you mind putting some cream on my feet for me before you go? They’re really sore today.”

“What?” Don replied, continuing to read his paper. “Uh ... I’m, uh ... Can you get Donny to do it?”

“But Donny doesn’t want to do that, and you do it so well.” I complained.

“Well ... Donny, can do it too. I won’t be here forever, you know.”

“Oh, alright,” I said in a disgruntled voice. “Donny, would you mind, sweetie?” I held the jar of cream out to Donny and sat down at the far end of the table, turning my chair sideways, stretching my legs out, lifting one foot and letting its slipper fall to the floor.

Donny dragged his chair over to sit in front of me. I lifted the foot higher and lay it on his knee. Taking the cream, he scooped some into his fingers and, glancing at father, began to apply it to my foot. As he worked the cream into my foot, I slowly pulled my dress up my legs, blocked from Don’s view by the kitchen table. Donny’s eyes, though, followed intently, straying only to glance to be sure his father wasn’t looking. I picked up a magazine and pretended to read it while Donny was working, just to block Don’s view even more while I continued inching my dress up my legs. When the hem crossed above mid thigh level, I bent my knee sideways, opening my thighs wide and pulling the dress even higher. His face tensed as my panties came into view and, seemingly mesmerized, he stopped massaging my foot.

I wiggled my foot, kickstarting him back into action, though he didn’t pay the least bit of attention to my foot. I let my hands dangle between my thighs, rubbing my index fingers back and forth on the soft skin there. Pressing into my thighs, pulling the skin away from my panties, I emphasized the mound pushing up underneath. Holding the skin taut away from my pussy, I suggestively flexed my pelvis, pushing it out and up toward him.

Donny switched to rub cream on my other foot, the one that was now near the bottom of the thigh of my bent leg, bringing his hand close to my panties. I could see he desperately wanted to reach out another two inches to touch them, like he had the night before. I strained my panties toward him again ... once, twice, a third time. Each time, I thought his eyes were going to fall out of his head as he clearly saw me throbbing toward him, however slight the movement. I was being such a teasing bitch, but I loved it. Every nerve in my body tingled. I stretched my abandoned foot, still lying straight along the top of his legs, the extra inch I needed for my toes to reach his crotch, and pushed my heel down between his thighs. I held it there for about a minute. Then, realizing we were skirting with disaster, I pulled my foot away and closed my legs.

“Thanks, Donny. You did that so well I think I’ll have to get you to do it for me from now on. Would you mind?”

“What?” Don raised his head from his paper.

“I was just saying that Donny did such a great job on my feet I’d ask him to do it for me from now on.”

“Oh. That’s good.” Don looked at his watch. “Well, Donny. We’d better go.”

Donny looked like he had years ago when he didn’t want to go to school, when he wanted to stay home with his mom. I laughed to myself. There was no doubt in my mind that he wanted to stay home with his mom.

That night, Don and I were supposed to go out for dinner. When Donny came home, he made it clear he wanted to play. He tried to drag me to the couch, but I refused.

“No, Donny. Your Dad will be home soon to take me out for dinner. You’ll have to wait until next week when we can be alone.”

Crestfallen, he started upstairs toward his room. Suddenly, I had a mischievous idea.

“But you can help me pick out a nice dress to wear for Dad.”

Donny didn’t look too enthused, but he let me grab his hand as I walked past and towed him upstairs to my room. I rummaged through my closet and picked out three of my sexiest dresses. Being a little conservative, there wasn’t anything outrageous in my collection. I laid the dresses out on my bed. Standing next to him at the side of the bed, I slipped my arm around his waist and asked, “Which one do you think Dad would like me to wear?”

He responded by slipping his arm around my back, between my arm and my side, cupping my breast. I smiled at his initiative.

“Hmmmm,” he pondered, squeezing my breast, “That’s a hard one.”

As he continued to knead my breast, I prodded him, “Come on now. You have to pick one.”

He picked the middle one, a plain but elegant navy blue dress with a conservative hemline that fell to just above my knee, a demure, high necked front but a lower back. I picked the dress up and turned my back to him. “Undo me,” I said, presenting the zipper of my house dress to him.

Caught off guard, it took a few seconds for him to unhook me and slide the zipper down. I’m sure he expected me to then walk away to our ensuite or into the walk in closet to change but I surprised him and shucked the dress off my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. I stood in front of him in bra and panties. I paused for effect, to let him run his eyes over my hips, down my buttocks, along my legs, then stepped into the navy blue dress and asked him to do me up.

Twirling around, I asked, “Do you like it?” To his nod, I added, “Should I keep it on until your father gets home?”

Twigging to this new game, he responded, “Well, I’m not sure now, Mom. Maybe you should try one of the other ones.”

I smiled as I presented myself to him again, and waited for him to undress me. He unhooked my neckline, unzipped the dress, and waited for me shrug it off. When I didn’t, he stood patiently, waiting. I shrugged my shoulders, but only a little, not enough to displace the dress. Catching on, he slipped his hands under the material on my shoulders and pulled it out just a little, keeping his hands in contact with my upper arms as he slowly slid the dress down my body. Reaching my elbows, he pulled his hands, and the dress, into my waist, following the curve over the swell of my hips. Instead of moving down the outside of my thighs, he moved his hands back, over my buttocks, sliding down my cheeks outside my panties to the back of my thighs. Only then did he let the dress to the floor. My boy was a fast learner.

Stepping back into him, I leaned back until he put his arms around me. I pressed my ass back, turned my head back and up, and asked, “Which one next? The green or the red?”

“Green,” he answered.

When I didn’t move, he leaned over to pick it up. As he held it, I turned to face him. His eyes ran down me, eyeing the swell of my breasts emphasized by the push up bra I’d put on that morning, down over the swell of my tummy with its wide, depressed navel, to my panties. His eyes lingered there. “Put it on me,” I instructed.

He knelt down, holding the dress open so I could step into it. When I didn’t move, he looked up, his head level with my panties. He stared straight ahead, right at the raised mound, a hint of my pubic hair evident beneath the material. Putting my hands out to hold his head, I said, “Keep me steady while I step into it.” I made sure he was pointed right at my pussy, and only an inch away, as I lifted my leg and bent it wider than necessary to step into the dress, repeating with the other foot, in no particular rush. I used my hands to pull him slowly upright, dragging the dress up my body, keeping his nose close to me all the way up, pulling his face between my breasts, letting them brush his cheeks, until he slipped my arms in and pushed the dress back over my shoulders. I stood close to him, waiting, until he reached around to find the zipper and dragged it up my back. He seemed reluctant to pull away, so I stepped back several steps and twirled around for him to see.

“Do you like it? It feels more fun that the last one. I think I’ll keep it on. I’m sure Dad will like it.”

He openly admired my body while I twirled and stretched in front of him. After all, I was asking him to. “No,” he replied thoughtfully, “I think you should try on the last one, just to be sure.”

“Oh alright,” I laughed, bouncing to stand directly in front of him, wiggling my hips. “You’re always so methodical, so thorough.” I laughed again, more softly. “Take it off me, then,” I said in a low voice. This time, he peeled the dress off my shoulders with me still facing him, keeping me close to his chest. He paused when the dress reached my hips, brazenly admiring my breasts. “Your Dad will be home soon. You’d better hurry if you want to see me in the red one,” I cautioned him. “It’s the most fun of the three,” I added to encourage him.

Down it went. He pulled the red dress up my legs the same way he’d done the green one, with me holding his head to steady myself, and to keep his nose and eyes where I wanted them. As I pulled him upright, I grasped the dress just as it passed over my hips. “Wait,” I said. “I can’t wear a bra under this dress. It’s cut too low, it will show.” Dumbly, he didn’t move. “Well, take my bra off, silly,” I said.

His shock wore off quickly. He reached around to fiddle with my straps. “No, in front, silly.” He pulled his hands eagerly back around and, to my surprise, deftly twisted the center, releasing my breasts. Without pausing, he pulled the bra off my arms, then took control of the dress again, pushing my hands to my sides. Then, he just stood there, holding my dress at my hips, staring at my tits, their excited nipples jutting out to almost touch him.

“Oh, you remember these, do you?” I laughed, low in my throat. As he mumbled something in reply, I continued, “Well, there’s no time for you to be reacquainted.” What a teasing bitch, I thought. “But if you’re a good boy and just do up my dress, I’ll let you dance with me after Dad and I get home. If you’ve just started a movie I like, you know he’ll head straight for bed. Would you like that?” I pushed my breasts up, teasing him yet more.

“Yes, Mom.” Quietly, disappointed yet grateful.

As he began pulling the dress up over my breasts, I stopped him. “What the hell, I think we have a enough time for a real quick feel, if you want.” I arched my back, and pulled his hands to my tits. I let him fondle my breasts until I heard Don pulling into the driveway but the door had opened and closed before I pried Donny’s fingers off my nipples.

“Honey? Sorry I’m so late. We’d better get going.” By the time he entered our bedroom, Donny was gone and I was just zipping up my conservative, navy blue dress.

Over dinner, I kept thinking about my outrageous behavior. I had no explanation for why I was teasing my son so much, but I acknowledged that I enjoyed it immensely. It excited me so much. I had to really struggle to stop going farther when he was fondling my tits. I wanted to shove his head against them, to feel him suck my nipples into his mouth. Once, when I pulled myself tight against him, I could feel his hard cock on my belly. His cock. God, the thought made me wet.

I strained to drain my thoughts, to turn myself back to listen to Don. What was he saying? Hadn’t he noticed my mind was far away. I kept nodding here and there, my thoughts turning manipulative again. I ordered more red wine. I knew it would perk Don up but on the drive home, he’d become sleepy. After two bottles, mostly drunk by Don, we headed home, deciding not to go anywhere else. Don dozed off. I had to wake him in the driveway.

When we came in, Donny was waiting. There was a bottle of wine and two glasses sitting on the coffee table. I was alarmed at the implication, but Donny quickly explained as Don and I took off our coats. “Hi guys. I got some wine for you in case you came home early, and I got a good movie for you.”

“Oh, that’s great son, but I’m bushed. I’ve got to get to bed.” Without waiting to see what my response was, Don headed upstairs. He went directly into our room, leaving the hall light on but not bothering to turn the bedroom light on, or close the door. Donny watched him until he disappeared, then turned his gaze on me.

“Would you like to just watch a movie with me, Mom, since you don’t have your dancing dress on?” He cocked his head toward the couch. I imagine he’d been thinking about getting me on that couch since Don and I had left, just as I’d been thinking of slow dancing with him. I noticed that the movie was paused on the image of a sexy woman, barely clad, sprawled carelessly on a white divan. I noticed that the woman looked a lot like me.

“I didn’t get to dance,” I complained, “Your Dad was tired and just wanted to come home.”

Donny walked past me to the hall closet where we had just hung up our coats. Turning off the hall light, leaving the room dimly lit only by one lamp in the far corner of the living room and the hall lamp from upstairs, he reached in and pulled a hanger out with my red dress on it.