Chapter 3

It was Friday morning and I had been laying in bed with one thought preoccupying my mind since waking: Mom had been taking my instructions for more than a month, longer than the original bargain, and I wondered why.

Did she like being ordered around or did she simply find it easier to have dinners planned even if she still had to make them? Did she like the attention required to pick out her clothes? Was she aware of the admiration I tried to hide but inadvertently showered upon her?

Somehow, all of that that didn’t offer a sufficient explanation for her continued subservience. There were obvious sexual implications from my forays inside her skirt while trying to retrieve the keys. The fact that she allowed it excited me greatly though the thought would have been repugnant to me a month ago. Not that Mom wasn’t good looking. Although older she had an exciting body that any red-blooded male would want to touch. If I’d thought about it then, and she hadn’t been my mother, I would have wanted to have my way with her. A month later, I didn’t care that she was.

I groaned and my hand covered my balls, then slid up so my fingers could encircle my shaft. That was the problem. I wanted my mother’s body but I loved her too much to dishonor her, except at night in my dreams. She looked so hot the way I dressed her and the way she flirted when I made her pose—I wanted to fuck her so badly. I remembered her upturned face so close to the bulge in my pants, so tantalizingly close.

Was Dad right? Was she just playing along because she wanted something, say forgiveness for her role in selling the Cuda? Hell, I would trade that Cuda any day for a roll in the hay with her. Somehow that didn’t seem an adequate explanation for her behavior either.

Did she simply like taking orders? Did she get off on doing what she was told? Did it somehow absolve her of responsibility, free her to do things she couldn’t otherwise admit she wanted to do? I wondered if she would undress, show me her tits, if I told her to. Would it be easier if there was an excuse like selling photos for extra money? She was too smart to really believe such a ruse but would she go along with it? If she did, then would she do even more? I had to get her alone, away from Dad. I needed to find a way to get her to let me do a real photo shoot and then see what happened.

I dressed and went downstairs. Dad should already be in his office by so it was the perfect time to set things up.

There was a note on the table.

Mason. It’s been more than a month. We’ll be going out for dinner but you can let me know what to wear for the last day. Love, Mom.

I was crushed. I knew I had gone too far with the pictures in the office. After a few minutes delusion set in and I began reading more into Mom’s message than was probably there. Was she trying to tell me to shit or get off the pot?

Okay, Mom hadn’t given any indication she wanted me to do anything. Sure, she liked dressing up and being noticed. Did that mean she wanted to undress for me and let me take pictures and videos? All that, to absolve her guilt for selling car so I could go to college?

It was a ridiculous notion but I went upstairs anyway and selected the black dress and a pair of nylons so sheer they looked like a second skin. Then I looked for a skimpy pair of panties. In the back of her drawer I found a new pair that weren’t much more than a thickening of material, barely enough to cover a pussy. I set them on top of the dress and searched for a matching bra. Something with a push-up quality to it. I rummaged through the drawer without success and tried the next one and then another. I looked at the dress and shrugged.

Fine! No bra it was.

I was late for school and missed my first class. The day dragged on and on. I wanted to go home but was afraid. If Mom wasn’t wearing the dress, I knew it was all over. I’d go along for the dinner and that would be it. There was a time to admit defeat.

My heart sank when I got home. Mom was sitting in the living room with Dad. They were both watching the early news and neither was dressed to go out, nor did they look like they intended to. My disappointment was so raw I wanted to scream but what could I say? There was nothing I could do!

“What’s for dinner?” I asked.

“We already ate,” Dad answered. He tipped his glass back and turned back to the TV.

Mom smiled. “There’s leftovers in the kitchen,” she said.

I looked closely at Mom but she looked away. I dropped my backpack at the foot of the stairs and went into the kitchen. Dinner was still on the stove but there wasn’t much left: a pork chop, a few beans and a dried up potato. It wasn’t the feast I was expecting but probably was a sign of things to come. I dished the meager meal onto a plate and poured a glass of milk to wash it down. I took the meal upstairs to my room.

About two hours later, Mom knocked on my door and then pushed it open enough to slip her head through.

“Are you still hungry?”

I was starving but pride and anger prevented me from admitting it.

“No, I’m fine,” was my sullen response.

“Oh,” she said, and came all the way in, carrying my backpack to my desk and depositing it on the chair. She stood with her back to me, weight on one foot with the other tipped up to raise her heel. “That’s too bad.”

She looked incredible in the sleek black dress. I raised my eyes from her calves, one straight with tense muscles and the other relaxed, soft and feminine. The thighs were strong, both below and above the hem of the black dress, giving way to buttocks whose shape refused to be hidden by the dark material. As Mom turned around, I could see through the diving neckline that she had followed my wardrobe selection to the tee. No wonder her buttocks had appeared so enticing; the tiny thickening that served for black panties helped separate and define the shifting patterns beneath the fabric that drew my attention so easily.

“I’m still hungry and I thought you might take me out for a late snack.”

I was too surprised to answer.

“Your father fell asleep,” she explained further. She rested her right elbow in the palm of her left hand and put a finger to her lips. “Are you sure you don’t want some dessert?”

“Uh, um, sure, I guess.”

Mom pushed herself away from the chair, propelling herself toward the door.

“Okay. Get dressed and meet me downstairs.”

Hurriedly, I put on a shirt and slacks and threw on a sports jacket. I ran downstairs. Mom was waiting at the foot of the stairs with a finger to her lips, shushing me. Dad was out cold in his chair.

Mom drove to the restaurant and dessert and two special coffees each. I enjoyed myself so much I forgot about trying to get her to let me take pictures of her undressed. We talked like two adults who knew each other well for years. Surprisingly, at times it felt like Mom was flirting with me. As soon as I recognized it the feeling vanished. I couldn’t put my finger on a specific act or thing she said but it happened several times. My nerves were on edge but in a good way and, despite my earlier good intentions, I wondered how I could get Mom to let me play with the keys again.

On the way to the car Mom walked toward the driver’s side. I followed, hoping she would give me the keys to open the door but she opened it herself. I held it open and watched her get in, noting the goosebumps on her bare arms. Her right foot lifted and swung into the car, forcing the left leg to bend and the dress to rise up and stretch tightly across her thighs. I noticed again how strong her legs looked. They were spread in a wide V that came dangerously close to exposing the black panties I assumed were underneath. My gaze focused there too long. I shook my head and shivered. Mom looked up but fortunately by then I was looking into her eyes.

“You can drive if you want.” she said.

“It’s okay,” I replied and started to shut the door.

“Mason, you should do what you want. You’re still the boss until tomorrow.”

I hesitated and Mom pulled her left leg inside the car, my hopes slipping away with it. She reached for the arm of the door and started to pull. I blocked the door.

“Move over,” I said.

“What?”

“Move over,” I repeated.

Mom shifted toward the middle and I got into the car, awkwardly lacking the grace of her entry. The door shut with a firm thud. We sat there, at the far, dark end of the parking lot, looking out the window. I didn’t know what to say. Mom broke the silence.

“Thanks for a nice evening.”

I nodded. I was in a turmoil inside and incapable of speech.

“Seriously, I really enjoyed myself.”

Say something, stupid!

“Well, it’s time to go,” I said, hoping she would hand me the keys and drop them.

“Is it?” she asked.

I turned to face her.

“I had a good time, too.”

“I’m glad,” she said, putting her hand on my cheek.

“Actually, I think the last month has been the best one in my whole life.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Mom pursued it. “What part did you like best?”

“I don’t know, having whatever I wanted for dinner, I guess.”

“That’s it?”

“I guess.”

I was uncomfortable and afraid if we kept talking along this line I’d give myself away. Why didn’t she just give me the keys?

“We should go.”

“Do you want to know which part I liked best?” she asked.

“Sure.”

“Guess.”

“Mom.”

“Come on, guess.”

“Not having to decide what to make for dinner?”

Mom cocked her head, thinking. “Hmmmm. That was nice, but no.”

“Um, I don’t know.”

“Guess.”

“Not having to decide what to wear?”

“That was nice, too, but no.”

“What? Going out for dinner?”

“That was very nice but I liked something else better. Do you know what?”

“No.”

“I like it when you tell me what to do.”

Mom leaned toward me and gave me a quick peck on the lips. I looked at her but didn’t say anything because my mind was blank. She gave me another light kiss.

“It means I don’t have to be responsible for everything.”

“Huh.” I didn’t know what else to say.

“Know what else I like?”

I shook my head.

“When you take pictures of me.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It makes me feel special.” She pecked me on the lips again. “You make me feel special.”

“Huh. Too bad the month’s over.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” she said.

She smiled and brushed my lips again.

“You better give me the keys,” I said.

“Do we have to go so soon?”

“I think we should.”

I don’t know why I was suddenly scared but I was. Mom dug in her purse and held up the keys. They dropped when I tried to take them. I looked down and so did she. She laughed nervously. We looked at each other and I leaned toward her, making contact with her lips. The kiss was over in less than two seconds. Despite the butterflies in my stomach, I found a morsel of courage.

“I want to take some pictures of you when we get home.”

“Okay.”

Our lips met again.

I decided to go push it.

“In this dress.”

“Okay.”

I put my hand on Mom’s legs and they parted, letting the keys fall between. I followed but when my fingers contacted the keys I flicked them inside the skirt as I spoke to distract her.

“I want to do one like we did last time.”

“With my bra undone?”

“Yeah,” I breathed, leaning toward her.

I pushed the keys further and the scrape of the shear nylons was replaced by the soft flesh of her thighs. Her head drew back before I could kiss her.

“But I’m not wearing one.”

“What?”

“You didn’t put a bra out for me, remember?”

“Oh yeah. I forgot.”

I couldn’t think of anything else to say to distract her but wanted to feel her heat on the back of my hand again. Mom surprised me with her own request, the perfect distraction.

“Honey, would you give me a real kiss so we can pretend this was a real date? I haven’t been on one for so long I forget what it’s like.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

I thought it would feel weird kissing Mom for real but it didn’t. Actually, it was so nice I forgot to use the distraction to get my hand deeper inside her dress.

“I’m sorry it’s over,” Mom whispered when the kiss was done.

“I was just catching my breath,” I said.

I captured her mouth in mine and, now unafraid, kissed her like she was a girl I really liked. My fingers moved over top of the keys and pushed deep between her thighs. They had almost reached their destination when Mom pulled away. I cringed, knowing I had gone too far for sure this time. I should have kissed her in a more platonic manner or left my hand where it was.

“I should tell you,” she said, somewhat out of breath.

I held still but Mom didn’t say anything else. The silence became awkward, especially since I had my hand way up her skirt.

“What?” I prompted.

“I didn’t dress exactly the way you wanted me to.”

“You didn’t?”

“No. The panties were too uncomfortable.”

“Oh,” I said.

I tried to close the gap between our mouths to draw attention away from the presence of my hand but Mom turned away. When she spoke I could hardly hear her.

“So I didn’t wear them.”

“That’s okay,” I whispered, and pushed my mouth onto hers.

Knowing the gig was likely up at the end of the kiss, I made the most of it. I curled my fingers inward and pressed my knuckles against her warmth. The skimpy black panties wouldn’t be there but even big white ones would still feel good. I expected a rebuke but nothing happened. My mind struggled to make sense of the tactile signals racing up my arm. Confused, my lips fumbled on hers. What had my fingers encountered? It felt smooth, and damp. I broke the kiss and spoke to Mom.

“You didn’t wear the black panties?”

“No,” she whispered.

I kissed her again and pressed my knuckles more firmly against her womanhood, kind of stunned that she hadn’t told me to remove my hand. Even more surprising, her arm curled around my neck and she kissed me back. I brushed my knuckles up and down, testing the puffiness I now knew was curly pubic hair. The kiss ended and our mouths parted, but only by an inch. We breathed heavily, panting on each other’s face while we gazed into each other’s eyes. My fingers pressed against her pussy and wiggled. Mom closed her eyes.

“We really should go home now,” she whispered, and pressed her knees together.

I didn’t want to, not yet.

“Open your legs,” I urged.

Her knees parted and I covered her lips to muffle another request to take her home. My mouth pressed her face back and her hips shifted forward, forcing the wet groove onto my longest finger. I crooked the tip up and tugged a few resistant hairs that were reluctant to give way. I pushed my tongue into Mom’s mouth and plied the canyon of her slit for the duration of the longest kiss in my life, one I hoped would never end, but Mom put her hand on my arm.

“We should go...”

Her hips shifted again and forced the tip of my finger to breach the entrance to her cunt. A gasp replaced the words that would have finished her thought. I covered her mouth and shoved my tongue in deep. I wanted to ply her pussy with my finger the same way my tongue was exploring her mouth but was afraid of going too far, as ridiculous as that sounds. Suddenly, Mom’s hips jerked forward and my finger accidentally inserted itself deeper into her cunt. My tongue and our lips became still. I opened my eyes but hers remained closed.

Mom grunted softly when I slipped a second finger into her cunt. Her hand grasped the hair on the back of my head in a death grip and pulled my mouth hard onto hers. My fingers twisted back and forth and my thumb reached up to rub the nub above her slit. She became very animated, chewing on my mouth and bucking her hips, as if trying to swallow my hand with her pussy. She pulled her mouth away from mine and jerked my head forward until it was beside hers, hips churning, her hand gripping my arm and preventing it from moving.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” she cried.

She shuddered, stiffened and shuddered again, cried out, then slumped in the seat, her hands keeping my head and arm firmly in place. When I tried to pull away her grip tightened. I relaxed until the pressure lightened. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Her hands slipped away, releasing my arm and head.

“Take me home, please.”

Her tone was curt.

“Okay.”

I retrieved the keys and started the car. I took my time driving home to give the huge boner in my pants time to subside but it didn’t, at least, not completely. I held the door and helped Mom out of the car, touched by the way she kept her knees together and tugged her skirt down as she exited on the driver’s side. I held her arm and escorted her to the house, opened the door, and stepped aside so she could enter first. I could hardly wait to take the pictures she had promised and wondered, after what had happened, if she would still let me.

Dad was awake!

Who knows what would have happened if Dad had remained asleep or got up and gone to bed. Instead, my father had caught a second wind. I noticed that the back of Mom’s dress wasn’t zippered. There was a gap that revealed back from the waist to the button that fastened the dress behind her neck. She obviously wasn’t wearing a bra which meant she was completely naked under the dress except for stockings! A lump of missed opportunity formed at the top of my gut. To think I could have slipped my hand inside to hold her breast when I kissed her.