Date Night
by MicaMeesha
Copyright© 2026 by MicaMeesha
It was date night. My husband Paul was away but would be back, and our eighteen-year-old son Mik was going to a friend’s for an Xbox session and would probably stay over. That means that he would be up all night playing games and then come home sometime tomorrow and crash on his bed. This was an evening for just Paul and me. Romance was in the air.
I had my day planned. First was me time. I turned the wax applicator on, and whilst it heated, I went into the shower and had a good hot wash and exfoliated all over. Once showered, I went back to my bedroom, and I sat on a towel on the edge of my bed. The applicator was hot, and I had my strips and my moisturiser. I did my legs first, applied wax, pressed on the remover strip, and then pulled quickly. Reapply and pull quickly in the other direction.
If anyone ever tells you that it doesn’t hurt, they lie and can never be trusted, ever. Legs done. I took a deep breath. It was the big one next, the bikini area. I don’t know why, but it always hurts much more in the bikini zone. I thought about getting a depilator, but that was all I did: think about it.
All done, I squeezed a liberal amount of moisturiser and poured it over my legs and bikini zone, soothing and giving relief. Loose kami knickers, a skirt, a bra and a light jumper, and I was ready for the shops. Phase two was provisions. I had our date meal planned. King prawns to start, a steak for the main and simple cheese and biscuits for later.
I had the wine I wanted, a red and a white, both Australian, and some port to go with the cheese. I had to go to two butchers to get the steaks that I wanted, 1” thick sirloins. The first had some thinner ones, but I wanted the thicker ones. I got mushrooms, onions and tomatoes to go with, and I planned on jacket potatoes to complete the meal.
After everything was provisioned, I went back home, popped jacket potatoes in the oven for later, and poured myself a glass of wine and sat in the conservatory, sipping, imagining how the evening would go. Mik came in and sat with me.
“All ready, Mum?”
“Yes, baby, I have all the shopping I needed. As soon as your dad has caught his flight, I shall go and get dressed, and then when he lets me know he has landed, I shall start to prepare the food. I just need to do the table.”
“Excellent Mum. I have told Mike that I would be around to join them later once my dad gets home.”
“Are there a few of you then?”
“Yes, there is a battle, and it will be last man standing, so it could go on for quite a while. I plan to be the last man standing.”
“What do you get if you win?”
“When I win, Mum, not if. I get crowing rights; everyone will know I am the best. It will just be known, and people won’t mess with me online.”
I must be honest; it kind of meant nothing to me. I smiled as if I had a clue what he was on about and settled back into the chair.
My mobile rang; it was Paul.
“Hello darling, I can’t wait; I have everything sorted and ready, just waiting for you to take off.”
“I am sorry, sweetheart.”
“Sorry, what, Paul?”
Fog-bound. No taking off until tomorrow at the earliest.”
“You are joking me; this is a joke, right? You have landed and are about to get a taxi, right?”
“How I wish, sweetheart. It is a four-hour drive to the nearest alternative airport, and that is also fogbound. There are no hire cars to be had, and anyway the fog is too thick to safely drive. I have managed to get a hotel room at the airport hotel, and that is where I am going to be.”
I was annoyed. I had told him I didn’t want him going away on date day, but he had insisted it would be okay, just get on a plane and fly home when the work was done. And now everything was ruined. We ended the call and I think I had tears in my eyes.
“Mum, what’s up Mum, why are you crying?”
“Oh am I, silly me, sorry. Your dad is delayed is all.”
“How much delayed Mum, a few hours?”
“No baby, tomorrow at the earliest. All my plans are ruined. Oh well. You can go to your friends as soon as you like, baby; I shall probably just have an early night.”
Mik stood up and came across and faced me.
“No Mum. I am not going, and you are not having an early night. So, Dad’s not here. I am. We will have date night. You go and put on the clothes that you had planned to wear. I will go and put my best shirt and jeans on, and then you can show me how to cook the meal, and we will enjoy it together, Mum. Dad is going to be so angry at what he missed. Perhaps we can send him photos.”
“I don’t know, baby; I am not sure.”
“It wasn’t a suggestion, Mum. Go, get dressed and don’t cheat. I want you in the exact same outfit you planned for Dad, so when we send him photos, he can see exactly what he has missed, and then perhaps he will make sure he doesn’t miss the next one.”
Well, it did seem a shame to let the food go to waste.
“Okay, baby, if you are sure.”
I went up to my bedroom and stripped. My clothes were all ready; I might as well get dressed exactly as I had planned. I had a matching pale blue strapless bra, suspenders, knickers and blue-edged stockings. I had sorted out my over-the-shoulder blue silk handkerchief dress and, to finish it, my blue six-inch heels. It was my knockout go-get-him outfit. Pity it would be wasted.
Once I was dressed, I applied some blue eye liner, a little blusher, and a spray of Jo Malone ODP at my neck and cleavage. Right. Sod it, Paul. I am going to have dinner with our son, and we will take selfies and send them to you; you can see what you have missed.
I went downstairs and put my apron on. If Mik had been at his friends’, I would have just cooked in my underwear, but that wasn’t appropriate with my son, so I would just have to be careful and not spill or splash anything onto my dress.
“Right then, Mum, what is first?”
“Mik, oh my god, you look so handsome.” “Thank you, Mum. This is Dad’s DJ; I am just kind of borrowing it. It is a clip-on tie; I can’t tie a dickie bow. I could not let you down, Mum.”
I almost cried; it was such a sweet touch by Mik. “Darling, you look fabulous; your dad can’t do one either. I always did it for him.”
Mik put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a black bow tie, untied.
“This one, Mum? I tried; I even googled it, but I can’t do it.”
I stood before him and removed the clip on and put it on the side table.
“Now then, young man, look straight ahead, and I will do this; you need to keep your head straight.” I pulled the tie around his neck, crossed it, passed it under, made the folds and tied it. I stepped back.
“Perfect, Mik. Look in the mirror and see what you think.”
“No need; if my date thinks it is perfect, who am I to argue?”
I gave a little curtsey. “Right, mister, do you think you could wear my spare apron and then wash and dry the prawns and start frying them in the garlic oil?”
“Yes, Mum.”
The jacket potatoes had been in the oven for a few hours and were now just keeping crisp and warm. I halved two tomatoes and popped them under the grill on a tray. I then halved two small onions and popped them in a frying pan with some butter. Mik and I were standing next to each other in front of the hob. He had the left side, I had the right.
“They look done, Mik. Lift them out of the butter and put them on a plate, push the pan to the back and then pop 2 slices of the sourdough into the toaster. Don’t lose the garlic oil; you can spread that on the toast.
The meal went great; I forgot my disappointment with Paul. The company I had was captivating. We managed to finish off the two bottles of wine, and then we had a few glasses of port with our cheese. I think we were a little tipsy.
‘Let’s dance, Mum,’ Mik said, and messing with his phone, he sent a song to the speakers. It started off something like, ‘There’s a lady who’s sure,’ and it was a sort of slow rock ballad. Mik seemed to think it was perfect, so I stood and went to join him in the middle of the room. He put his arms around me and pulled me in close; I put my arms around his back and dipped my head to his shoulder.
We swayed, and as we danced, he pulled me in closer, and I had a hand around his shoulder and another across his waist. Mik let his hands slip down to my bottom. Mik looked down at me, and I tipped my face up to him, and he kissed me. Goodness, I hadn’t expected that, nor did I expect that I would kiss him back. Our kiss started off slow, but it grew in passion, and our mouths opened and we explored each other. Mik pushed me closer to him; my breasts were squashed against his chest, and I could feel his arousal.
My dress started to move as Mik pulled it up; soon his hands were on my knickers, sliding down over them to the bare skin above my stockings. His arousal grew and was very much more apparent. I let myself go; I didn’t care that Paul wasn’t here. If he had been, this was going to happen anyway. I pulled back a little, and my hand undid Mik’s waistband, and my hand slipped into his pants.
His dick was hard, oh so hard, and I held it and moved his skin up and down, my tongue pressing hard into his mouth. “Let’s go somewhere more comfortable, Mik,” I said between kisses.
Mik took my hand and led me upstairs to my bedroom. We didn’t care; we left the door wide open. Who was here to see? I undid the catch on my dress, and it fell to the floor. I stood in front of Mik in my heels and my underwear. Mik undid his tie; it lay down his front, and that was such a damn sexy look. He dropped his jacket on his dad’s bedroom chair, unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it and the tie over the jacket. He was dressed just in trousers. I had already undone them, and he slid them and his pants down, and my son stood naked and erect in front of me.
Oh my, how my boy has grown. His dick was standing proud, pointing upwards and slightly to the left. His balls looked full and hung below, just slightly swaying. I felt somewhat overdressed. Mik walked to me and held my head. He leant down and kissed me, a kiss full of passion, wanting, and desire. He gently lowered me to the bed, and he knelt between my legs.
I could feel his breath above my stockings. I shivered in anticipation. I felt his nose press against my knickers, and I heard him inhale. A finger slid into my gusset and pulled my knickers to one side. I was exposed to my son. His tongue pressed, and then it was between my lips, exploring my valley, tasting me.
His hands gripped my knickers’ waist, and he pulled them down. I felt them hanging off my ankle; he pressed at my hips, opening me, my sex parted and my valley, my everything, was exposed to my son’s gaze. I knew I was wet; I was so aroused, so turned on. This was supposed to happen; it was planned to happen, but with my husband, not my son.
He sucked on my clitoris; oh my, jolts shot out. A finger explored my opening, circling, dabbing in, pushing, entering, wiggling. Oh my, he has done that before. He kissed up my valley. He kissed my navel. He pushed my bra up and kissed my nipples. He kissed my mouth, his lips full of the taste of me. His dick danced at my opening, and then it made its way into my dance arena. I felt his dick as it filled me; slowly he pressed it inside me, stretching me, opening me, owning me, and he stopped. He had filled me; there was no further to go.
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