Chapter 16

Fantastic. The locksmith identified the key as one belonging to a local storage warehouse in a nearby town. All I had to do was show up and request access to the storage locker associated with the key. On the weekend, I would fetch the letters and see if there were actually any videos. Pleased, I started browsing through the letters that I hadn’t yet read.

My name is Evan and I’d like to tell you about my Mom, Edith, and what happened in my last year of high school. I was hanging out with some friends and we stopped at a local mall to pick up some beers on the way over to my friend Jim’s place. I stayed in the car in the parking lot while he and Gary went in to score some booze. Gazing around while listening to some tunes I spotted my mother walking towards me. She was walking slowly with an uncharacteristic exaggeration to her walk, kind of like an old time movie star making sure her admirers could enjoy the roll of her hips and the highlights of her leg muscles accented by her high heels.

I slunk down in the front seat as Mom approached, hoping not to be seen in case she clued in to why I was there, which she would certainly do if she stayed long enough for Jim and Gary to arrive carrying armloads of beer. I swore out loud when she stopped and opened the trunk of her car directly in front of me, which I now recognized. She turned to look back the way she had come, smiling and speaking to the store employee following her with several bags of groceries clutched in his arms.

As man set the bags in the trunk, Mom touched him on his shoulder and then his forearm, chatting merrily to him after he closed the trunk and she slowly made her way around the side of the car to the driver’s door. Since there was no car parked next to Mom’s car, the man opened the door wide for her to get in. With a final touch on his forearm, Mom sat in the car, turned her face forward, and swung her legs inside. Even at a distance I could see that the man took advantage of her averted gaze to look down at her legs, probably with a good view up her skirt. It seemed to take a long time for Mom to get her legs inside the car and even then the man appeared reluctant to close the door. He leaned down to talk through Mom’s open window for a few a minute or so before she started the car, backed out and drove away.

I sat up slowly and, with a weird feeling, alternated between looking at the man’s retreating back and Mom’s receding car. Mom had flirted outrageously with this man and I had the sense this wasn’t their first time. I couldn’t blame the guy for looking at Mom’s legs. Why wouldn’t he? But Mom had gone out of her way to let him look. Way out of her way. I was shocked.

I told Jim and Gary I suddenly wasn’t feeling well and went home instead of partying at Jim’s place. Mom was in the kitchen putting stuff away and starting to get dinner ready. She was still wearing the same dress but the heels were gone. I sat in a kitchen chair and watched her, unable for the first time in my life to keep my eyes off her stockinged legs, listening to her chatter and the whisper of her nylons as she moved around the kitchen.

Suddenly, I blurted out, “That guy really likes your legs.”

Mom swung around to face me, looking flabbergasted. “What?” she cried.

“Your legs,” I mumbled. “That guy was staring at your legs all the way to your car.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw you, at the grocery store. The guy that carried your bags. He was staring at your legs.”

“Where were you? What were you doing there?” Mom looked taken aback as she tossed these questions out.

“I was sitting in Jim’s car, right behind yours.”

Mom’s face went kind of red and her voice rose an octave.

“Doing what? Spying on me?”

“No. Jim and Gary wanted to party and I was waiting for them to get some booze.” I don’t know why I admitted that. Maybe I wanted to show we were both guilty of something.

“Evan, you shouldn’t be...”

“I’m here,” I cut her off. “I didn’t go.”

“Right,” Mom said, looking awkwardly away.

“Anyway, he really liked your legs,” I repeated, looking down at Mom’s legs and getting back on track.

“Oh, Ben. He’s harmless,” Mom casually dismissed the whole thing. “He carries my bags out for me all the time,” Mom paused, then continued, “so, you know,” her voice trailed off.

“Oh,” I answered quietly.

Our conversation ended there. Mom returned to her work and I continued watching her, my eyes eventually straying up from her legs to admire her rear end and the narrowness of her waist. She worked as if I wasn’t there but somehow I knew she was cognizant of the close attention I was paying to her. It was strange. There was something different between us now though it couldn’t be seen. She seemed to pause longer between movements and she kept stretching one foot behind to steady herself by pushing her toes against the floor and tensing her calf muscles, perhaps a little more than necessary. Anyway, once everything was set on the stove, Mom walked over to stand beside me.

“Can you watch the stove while I get out of this dress?” she smiled, laying her soft fingers down on my forearm.

“Sure,” I agreed, my eyes following her out as she walked slowly away in the same exaggerated stroll I had witnessed this afternoon. Although it hadn’t earlier, my cock now reacted as I watched the sway of my mother’s hips. She returned only a few minutes later wearing a nondescript housedress, without hose, and her slippers, just as I heard the crunch of Dad’s tires in the driveway. Mom stopped and put her hand on my arm again.

“I don’t think you should mention anything about the parking lot, Evan. I don’t think Dad would like the idea of you getting booze.”

“Mums the word,” I agreed.

Mom looked relieved. Despite what she’d said, we both knew that she was really asking me not to say anything about her and Ben. Though I hadn’t said anything, she knew I had probably seen her let Ben look up her skirt as she got into the car.

The rest of the evening was uneventful. Mom went into the kitchen when I got up to go to bed and asked me to bring any dishes in the living room into the kitchen, which I did. After putting them on the counter beside the sink, I turned to walk away but Mom caught my arm.

“Give your mother a kiss goodnight,” she said.

I gave her a peck on her cheek and she followed that by planting a longer and softer kiss on the side of my cheek, stretching up on her toes to reach, an action that caused her breasts to brush lightly across my chest.

“Sweet dreams,” she whispered.

Mom hadn’t kissed me goodnight for years.

The next morning, just before I ran out the door to meet Jim who was picking me up on the way to school, as usual, Mom asked me if I could meet her at the mall after school to help her home with some groceries. This was also new. Mom had never asked me to do that before.

Mom was waiting for me in front of the grocery store after school. She was wearing the same dress she’s worn the day before but without pantyhose, just bare legs, and sandals instead of heels. I followed her around with a cart as she picked things up, making sure to stay behind so I could look at her legs. I never offered to help when she had to reach up to get things though most of the things she needed were on the top or bottom shelves. Mom never let on that I was watching but I’m sure she knew.

Ben seemed disappointed to see me. I trailed behind Mom on the way to the car, which she had parked at the far end of the parking lot. She strolled along in the same fashion she had used to tease Ben which surprised me. It was one thing to let me look but another to so openly encourage it. After I dumped the bags in the trunk, Mom handed me the keys and asked me to open the door for her as she walked around to the passenger side. I was really stunned when she treated me to a long look up her skirt, looking away just as she had with Ben so I was free to peek. She wasn’t wearing pantyhose. Somehow I knew that Ben hadn’t been gifted with such a direct look at her panties. Her son’s reward for carrying the groceries was special.

At home, Mom asked me to stay in the kitchen to keep her company, giving me an excuse to watch her. She had kicked off her sandals as she entered the house and was padding around the kitchen in bare feet. She asked me several times to help her put things away in the upper cupboards but she first stretched up on her toes and waited for me to grab whatever she was holding and take it the last few inches, allowing me to brush my body against the back of hers. It was a silly way to do this but we acted like it was completely rational.

Finally, like the day before, everything was put away and dinner was on the stove. Mom again walked over to where I was sitting but this time she raised her foot up and put the ball of her foot on the edge of my chair between my legs.

“Look at all the scratches I got on my ankles from gardening this afternoon,” she said, twisting her leg to show me. “I don’t know why Ben likes to look at these old legs.”

“Hmmmm, yes,” I said, placing my hand so I could circle her ankle loosely with my fingers. “Pretty scuffed up,” I agreed, stroking my hand up her leg and then down, trailing my fingers lightly over her skin.

“Brat,” Mom laughed. “They’re not that bad.”

“No, you’re right,” I agreed, running my hand back up her ankle and continuing along the back of her calf to her knee. “They are kinda nice.” I let my fingers stretch out to scratch the underside of her thigh just above her knee.

“Thank you, sir. Well, I better get out of this dress.” Mom pulled her foot back and left the kitchen. “Watch the stove,” she called over her shoulder.

Once again, Dad just pulled into the driveway when Mom returned. She walked straight over to me and reminded me to sure to give her a kiss goodnight before going to bed.

That night, I collected the glasses from the living room without being asked and deposited them in the dishwasher. Mom was waiting when I turned around. I leaned down to kiss her cheek and waited for her to plant her softer kiss on mine, which she did. But then she surprised me with a quick kiss right on my lips before turning quickly away and walking out of the kitchen.

Mom wasn’t in the living room when I finally roused myself to leave. She must have gone upstairs. I went upstairs, used the bathroom and got into bed. Thinking about the day, caressing Mom’s foot and watching her all afternoon at the store and at home, my hand strayed down to first hold and then lazily stroke my cock.

I was startled when my door suddenly opened and Mom walked unannounced into my room. I jerked my hand off myself as she walked up to my bed. Her body was outlined underneath the floor length cotton nightgown she was wearing as she stood in my darkened room, the light from the hallway streaming in through the doorway behind her.

“Oh Evan, I forgot. Would you mind coming home early tomorrow?” she asked, a little short of breath. She didn’t explain why and I didn’t ask.

“Sure Mom.”

She sat down beside me on the bed, seemingly nervous.

“I’d just like you to help me with some things.”

“Whatever. I’ll be here,” I assured her.

Mom visibly relaxed, smiled, and looked away but her eyes raked past my waist and the telltale lump below. Quickly, she looked away and started to get up.

“I really do think you have nice legs,” I blurted out, feeling the need to say anything to divert her attention yet still while placing my hands on her knees to keep her from leaving.

She settled back onto the bed. “Really?” she asked.

“Yeah, Mom. I was just kidding before. You really do have nice legs.”

I pulled on the nightgown, lifting it a few inches. Mom took the hint and pulled the gown up over her knees, baring her legs down to her feet, leaning over to examine them critically.

“You’re just being nice.”

I took advantage to push her nightgown even higher on her legs, a little more than halfway up her thighs. It was a brazen move but Mom just watched me and smiled. I pushed the bunched up gown a little further.

“Actually, you have gorgeous legs,” I said as I struggled to a sitting position. “All the guys say so.”

As Mom digested my words, I slid my left hand underneath the gown on the outside of her thigh near the top of her leg.

“Really?” she asked, a twitch of her eye betraying her awareness of my hand. “No, they don’t. You’re just putting me on.”

“No really,” I insisted, letting my hand move slightly, tickling the side of her leg under the gown. I kissed her cheek. “I heard them talking once when they didn’t realize I there.” I kissed her cheek again but closer to the corner of her mouth.

“No way,” she repeated, kissing my cheek in return.

“I’m not kidding. Your legs are wasted on old guys like Ben.”

I let my fingers stroke the side of her leg again, adjusted my head and kissed her lightly on her lips.

“You’re just stringing me along,” she said. Her breathing quickened.

“I’m not, Mom,” I answered, moving my mouth forward to reconnect with hers. As my lips brushed hers I moved my free hand up to play with Mom’s hair at the base of her neck while stroking the other up her leg and over the outside of her hip to her bare waist. We were both breathing faster when my feathery light kiss ended.

“Yeah. You should let them see your legs,” I said, emphasizing ‘them’.

Mom laughed softly. “I don’t think their mothers would think highly of that.”

“Instead of Ben,” I continued, ignoring her protest.

“Let’s not talk about Ben,” Mom tensed up. “Your father wouldn’t understand it.”

“Ok. We won’t talk about stuff like that around Dad,” I agreed, moving in and kissing Mom again. Though no tongues were exchanged, it was a sexier kiss and I was getting hard. My hand slipped behind Mom’s back to stroke the hollow at the base of her spine and even ventured a little below onto the initial swell of her buttocks. There was a slight awkwardness when the kiss ended and I retrieved my hand from under Mom’s gown. She walked away in silence. I wished her goodnight but she closed the door softly behind her without responding.

I was home early the next day but was disappointed to see Mom in her normal housedress which didn’t show nearly as much of her legs. Mom got straight to the point.

“Just to be clear, I want you to know that there isn’t anything going on between Ben and I, or anyone else for that matter. I just prefer that Dad doesn’t know about it. He’d make a big deal out of just a little harmless flirting to thank Ben for helping me.”

I nodded but didn’t say anything. Mom looked increasingly uncomfortable.

“Your father just wouldn’t understand.”

“I know Mom. I won’t say anything,” I assured her.

“Good boy.” Mom came over and gave me a hug, and then kissed my cheek. I held her by the shoulders and kissed her on her lips, like I’d done the night before. She resisted a bit but then relaxed and let me kiss her. I spun her in a circle when we finished the kiss.

“You really are worth looking at, Mom.”

She protested but smiled and let me kiss her again.

“But I think you should cool it with Ben, Mom.” She agreed and let me kiss her one last time.

The next day, I asked Jim to come into the house instead of just dropping me off. Mom was home and dressed in one of her house dresses. While Jim used the bathroom I asked Mom if she would put on the Ben dress to see if Jim started looking at her legs, to prove the point I’d made the other day. She argued but capitulated to my persistence and perhaps partly in fear that I’d mention the Ben incident in front of Dad. I offered Jim a beer to keep him around until Mom returned, telling him that Mom now let me have beer at home if Dad wasn’t around. It was a lie, of course.

As I expected, Jim didn’t take his eyes off Mom when she came down the stairs. I explained to Mom that I had told Jim she let me have a beer or two at home if Dad wasn’t around.

“That’s right,” Mom said, grabbing a beer for herself. “Things are a little more relaxed when it’s just Evan and I at home.”

As we drank our beer I could see Mom start to enjoy Jim’s covert glances. She was a natural physical flirt and provided him with lots of opportunities to ogle her when he thought she, and I, were unaware. She struck a variety of poses that accented her legs and revealed even more with seemingly accidental carelessness with her dress, all for Jim’s benefit. Toward the end, when I knew Dad would soon be home, I pushed the envelope a little.

“Hey, Jim. I was telling Mom she has really great legs but she won’t believe me. She does, doesn’t she?”

Both Jim and Mom suddenly looked awkward.

“No really,” I said, stepping up behind Mom, “she has awesome legs, doesn’t she?”

Jim looked at Mom’s legs and Mom looked even more embarrassed. “Evan, I don’t think Jim...”

“Yeah, you do, Mrs Anderson,” Jim said.

I stepped behind Mom and placed my hands on her hips, sliding them down the outside of her legs. Jim’s eyes were riveted on my hands as they slid down Mom’s legs. Mom stood rigidly still.

“Look, Jim.”

My fingers scratched at Mom’s dress, gathering up enough material for me to hold. Slowly, I pulled her dress up a few inches until the hem was just above the part where a woman’s leg thickens.

“What do you think?” I asked my friend.

Jim didn’t say anything. His face was blank and I could easily imagine him drooling if I pulled Mom’s dress higher. Mom turned her head to the side away from his gaze but she didn’t try to stop me, move away, or push the dress down. I slid the hem an inch higher.

“Aren’t they awesome?”

“Yeah,” Jim finally gasped, staring as he gulped for breath.

I let Mom’s dress fall and said we’d better finish our beer before Dad got home. Both Mom and Jim seemed thankful to be released. Dad walked in the house as I walked Jim out to his car. Before he drove away, Jim must have mentioned Mom’s legs five times. I told him if he kept it quiet, I might let him look some more. Oh yeah. I told him to bring some beer around for me once in a while. What the hell.

Back inside the house, I found Dad already watching the news. Mom was nowhere to be seen. Walking to my room I spied her through her open bedroom door standing in front of the full length mirror, still wearing the dress, admiring her legs. With a quick look over my shoulder I entered my parents bedroom and quietly approached my mom. She didn’t look my way but spoke as I neared her.

“He really did like my legs, didn’t he?” She raised her dress up, as I had not thirty minutes earlier.

“He was like a deer caught in headlights,” I said, stepping behind her and looking over her shoulder to admire her legs myself. “I told you,” I whispered, nuzzling the side of her head, placing my hands on her waist.

Mom laughed. “He really was, wasn’t he?” Her voice still possessed the breathy excitement she had exuded in the kitchen.

“Of course,” I whispered into her ear. “So would Gary.”

“No, not shy little Gary,” Mom disagreed, still looking at her own legs. I gathered her dress in my hands and began pulling it higher.

“He would if he could see these,” I whispered, exposing more of her legs.

Mom was quiet but she trembled as I slid the dress higher up her legs, passing the halfway mark.

With my mouth right next to her ear, I whispered, “Imagine Gary’s face if he could see you right now.”

Mom gasped as soon as I said it. Gary had always been Mom’s favorite of all my friends. Innocent, baby-faced little Gary was put down at his own home but was always a target for sympathy in mine.

“Gary deserves a more than Jim, doesn’t he Mom?”

I said it as a statement more than a question. I kept pulling the dress higher, higher, waiting for Mom to protest, to push it down her thighs. But she didn’t. Her panties peeked out under the hem. A little higher. Now her mound was exposed, a slight crease running down the middle. I stopped. We both stared at her panties, at the prominent bulge and mysterious crease. I couldn’t help pressing into Mom from behind, pushing her panties forward. Mom’s hands finally grabbed the dress and tried to tug it down but I held it up, kept her panties exposed. Mom tugged harder.

“Gary should see. I want you to show him.”

“No, Evan. I can’t do that.”

“Yes you can,” I hissed. “He’s my best friend.”

“No Evan.” Mom managed to pull her dress down enough to cover her panties.

I let her dress fall but kept my hands on her waist. Softening my voice, I whispered, “I really don’t think Dad will understand about Ben. Do you?”

There was a long pause.

“No.”

I almost couldn’t hear her. I kissed Mom’s cheek and left.

The next day was Friday. Mom was surprised when I didn’t get home until after Dad and left right after dinner to hang out with the guys. I didn’t get home until after midnight. On Saturday, I didn’t get up until almost noon. Mom came from gardening just as I was finishing breakfast.

“What are you up to?” she asked. “Watching the big game with Dad?” referring to the football game that was about to start. Dad was already watching the pre-game show.

“No, we’re playing a new online game,” I explained after dinner. “Gary’s bring it over,” I said just before the doorbell rang. “That’s probably him now.”

Gary came in and said hi to Dad and Mom who didn’t greet him in the typically warm fashion she usually did. I shrugged in response to his quizzical look and led him up to my room. We were playing for almost an hour before Mom slipped through my door and quietly stood behind our two chairs, cloistered in front of the computer. Gary was playing while I watched, waiting for my turn.

I noted with approval that Mom had changed from her gardening clothes into the Ben dress. I ran my eyes up and down her legs while Mom watched the screen. I almost didn’t want to take my turn but rolled my chair in closer as Gary pulled his back to make room. Mom leaned in for a closer look at the screen as I started to play. I was aware that Gary had pushed back farther to make room for her, far enough that he would was sitting slightly behind and to one side of Mom, affording a wonderful view of the back of her legs and behind as she leaned in beside me. I was barely managing to stay alive on screen.

Incredibly, I began to do better and got lost in the game again, no doubt helped by Mom’s rooting and encouraging moves, her body pressing in and arching against the desk whenever I made a good move or had a close call. I was only dimly aware of how good that must have looked to Gary from his rear vantage point, seeing her legs stretch and buttocks tense up. Mom draped her hand over my shoulder and leaned down to briefly hug me during a pause in the game. I bathed in her fragrance and the soft press of her breast against my shoulder, feeling empty when it disconnected but relieved when her hip replaced the warmth of contact.

Mom joined in our sounds of triumph as I continued to outmaneuver my opponents, leaning down to kiss me when I survived a second round and letting her breast rest on my shoulder a little longer. I stretched my hand around her hips to hug her to me as she straightened up before quickly withdrawing as the game raged into action again.

I died halfway through that round and Gary moved in to take my place. As he readied himself for the start, Mom dropped her hand onto his shoulder and twirled the hair at the base of his neck, leaning in with him as he engaged the game, her arm now stretching across both shoulders. How wonderful she looked leaning over like that, her buttocks tensed and straining against the dress, jiggling with every slight movement, each cheer for Gary’s success. Like mine, Gary’s game improved with Mom’s support and when he survived the first round he received the same hug and kiss on the cheek as had I, and the complementary breast rest.

I stood to watch the next round, resting my hand on Mom’s waist and pressing her hip toward Gary’s shoulder. Again, he triumphed and was rewarded with a hug and kiss, and longer press of warm breast. Mom’s behind pressed back into me when she leaned down to hug Gary and I put my free hand on her waist on Gary’s side. I couldn’t help holding her back against me, delighting in the warmth and softness of her behind.

When Mom stood to allow Gary room to play, I snuggled close behind her, keeping my hands on her waist as I looked over her shoulder at the screen but pushing them around to hold her belly as we watched, swaying her over to lean against Gary. I was keenly aware that the bottom of her breasts brushed my hands as she moved in response to Gary’s wins and close calls on the screen. Gary didn’t survive the second round either and it was my turn again.

We played several more rounds like this. Gary followed my lead and stood behind Mom and, judging from the flush of his face, benefited from the same treats that had been awarded to me. When Gary died a few rounds later, he was disappointed to see Mom walk away to sit on the bed just as it was his turn to put his arms around her, and I didn’t play nearly as well without her close support. I was aware that Gary was barely watching me. Instead he was looking at Mom as she sat on the bed, looking on from afar. Just as I died, she spoke.

“Whew, I don’t know how you guys can take that excitement. It wears me out.” Mom swung her legs up onto my bed and laid back onto the pillows, her bent knees allowing her dress to slide down her thighs almost to her hips, baring her legs down to her sandals. Crossing one knee over the other, Mom dangled her foot up and down, trying to slip her sandal off. Succeeding at last, she switched legs and repeated with the other foot. It took a lot longer for this shoe to fall despite the intense scrutiny and wishing of both Gary and I. Not until that shoe fell did I realize that the game had already started and I had been killed early in the round.

I stood and walked over to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Are you alright, Mom?” I asked, concerned. She was laying on her back with her eyes closed.

“Oh sure,” she replied. “My legs just got a little tired watching you guys play. I can’t believe how tense I got just watching you. These old legs are a little sore from straining so much.”

I reached back to run my left hand up the inside of her leg, from her ankle to her knee.

“Oh, that feels good,” Mom said.

“Would you like us to massage your legs?” I offered. “It might relax your muscles.”

I continued stroking her calf muscle as Mom nodded her head and jerked my head to send Gary around to the other side of the bed. He sat down and very tentatively began stroking her other leg. When she smiled at his touch, we both shifted our weight to better sitting positions without breaking contact with Mom’s legs. Mom’s smile stayed on her face but she otherwise didn’t react as Gary and I stroked and stroked her legs. We stroked her legs for so long, her smile faded and I thought she had actually fallen asleep.

It was Gary who made the first move above her knee. Mom’s smile returned and slowly faded again as we stroked and scratched and tickled all around her thighs, from the muscular and weathered tops and sides to the incredibly soft bottoms and insides. Their warmth grew the higher we ventured and again it was Gary who calmly flipped her dress onto her pelvis so we could see what we were doing on all of her legs.

We could see the bottom of her panties. I could see her mound and the cleft running down the middle much better than I could when I had bared them a few days before. By pressing my fingers in harder on the inside of her thigh before dragging them back, I could make that mound move. I was first one to try this but Gary followed suit right away.

We were resting our armpits on Mom’s bent knees, each running a hand up and down the inside of a thigh and one on the outside and up the underneath of her legs, stretching our fingers so close to her we were almost touching her panties.

The flush of the upstairs toilet jarred me and I jerked my head in panic toward my bedroom door, relieved beyond comprehension when I saw that Mom had closed my door. I could hear Dad’s heavy footsteps as he rushed down the hallway back downstairs, presumably wanting to miss as little as possible of the football game.

I looked back at Mom. Her eyes had fluttered open but only halfway. They closed my eyes rested on her face. I waited only a minute before I scored another first over Gary. I let my fingers briefly brush Mom’s pale yellow panties. Not to be outdone, Gary followed suit as Mom didn’t react.

Every nerve in my body was zinging and my muscles were tensed to the breaking point. Again, I brushed up to the base of that fantastic mound, allowing one finger to stretch up to flutter across its front. There was a sharp intake of breath but no other reaction. Soon, every stroke Gary and I applied involved a brush or press on Mom’s panties which seemed to be getting warmer and were definitely damp.

We shifted our weight again so we could hold Mom’s legs at a higher and wider angle. Her legs thighs were now at almost a right angle from her body and held wide over each of our own thighs. Hair strayed out through he resulting gap at the sides of her panties. It was Gary that took the triumph of placing his fingers on Mom’s panties and leaving them there, pressing lightly in a tiny circular movement. There was a longer intake of breath, matched only when a minute later I found room for my own fingers above Gary’s, sliding their tips up that mysterious groove to make my own little circle around the little bump I found there.