Like any mother with an eighteen year old disco dolly for a daughter and twenty year old racer for a son, I was living on my nerves. It’s not that either of my children are bad, far from it, neither have been in any type of trouble or nasty incidents, at least not that I am aware of. It’s just that, in todays modern society we are continually reminded of all the bad that does go on out there in the big world, and it creates some anxieties within me concerning their welfare and safety, as I’m sure it does for most any mother.
I have to continually remind myself not to be so foolish as the world isn’t all bad. And my son and daughter are both good looking, happy go lucky and popular with all that know them, probably taking after their dad. As a family we all get along pretty well and we rarely have any arguments.
I encourage them all to have fun, even if I do sometimes worry for them and I enjoy being involved in the things they do. This way, they have no reason to keep any secrets from me, a bonus for any parent, especially when you want your daughter to be careful when it comes to dealing with unscrupulous members of the opposite sex. It’s good that we can talk openly about this and a caring, trusting environment makes for better behavior all round.
On a recent Saturday afternoon having returned from a shopping spree, my daughter and I were in her upstair bedroom and she was trying on some of her purchases, pleased to be modeling for me and seeking approval. There was the usual array of bare minimum asset covering, party dresses all spangle and lightweight material for the disco, with a collection of new accessories; belts, bangles, dangly jewelry, make-up and little decorative hairpins, not to forget the underwear; panties with ‘naughty’ and ‘bad girl’ slogans printed on them. For whose benefit, I’m not quite sure. Ahh, still, teenage ways will be what they are.
A particular red, strapless, cocktail party dress which hung, not much lower than her backside, I considered somewhat racy for her to be going out clubbing in. The material was so thin, that when the sun appeared from behind the clouds and shone in through the bedroom window, her body was clearly visible through the material. She wore this with her ruby encrusted high heeled sandals and an assortment of bling, dangly, necklaces. She bunched her hair up into a scrungy to complete her look. It must be said, she did look very pretty, her long youthful legs and slim waste and happy face made her shine. I was proud of my own little super model.
She flounced about in this outfit until we decided to have a much needed clear-out of her wardrobe. Before long we were piling her old clothes in a heap on her bed. Laughing and joking and having fun, we somehow ended up in a situation where I was persuaded to try on some of her past outfits. This had me feeling great, as my daughters clothes size was quite trim and many of the garments fitted me, although some pinched my curvy figure a little. Wow! Fitting into my daughters clothing, you have no idea how good this makes a middle aged woman feel.
Whilst squeezing into the third outfit I heard the noise of someone enter the house through the back door. I immediately recognized the voices of my son Alistair and his friend John as they entered the lounge and made themselves at home by turning on the tv and tuning to the music channel.
My daughter zipped me into her tight sunflower yellow mini dress and I slipped my heeled shoes on to go and discover what the boys had been up to this morning. I didn’t consider what effect my panty line being visible across my bottom and the bulge of my bra-less breasts straining the fabric and showing the bullet shape of my large nipples would have. Something perhaps mothers should be a little conscious of when their sons have friends around the house.
The event of walking into the lounge on this afternoon was to change my life in a rather strange and naughty way. Immediately all went quiet and I could see John scanning my legs from shoe to thigh and down again. A little more disconcerting was my son Alistair’s eyes darting around my breasts and around the hem of the dress. I wasn’t too sure about how to react to this but it did have me wondering what he was thinking at that moment. I had to snap him back to the awareness that it was his mother he was ogling.
‘Well what have you been up to today young men?’ I asked, hoping to garner their proper attention just as my daughter appeared in the lounge door behind me.
They both sat quiet, glanced at each other speechless, returned their focus in our direction, drinking in the vision of myself and daughter, both dressed as if ready for nightclubbing and it was a sunny Saturday afternoon. John was transfixed by my daughter and her ‘Red signals Danger’ outfit and I’m sure it was rather illicit thoughts that occupied his mind at that point.
Again I spoke, hoping to get some kind of verbal reaction.
‘Oh! We’ve been having a little fashion show to ourselves, Claire and I.’ I said twirling like a catwalk model and giggling.
‘You’ve missed it. Would you guys like to see some more outfits?’ I asked, fluttering my eyelids in a playful, girly innocence.
‘I’ve been trying on some of your sisters hand me downs.’ I said directing my comment to my son.
His gaze was still focused on my mid section and his eyes wandered around my hips and thighs. I found myself placing my hand to my tummy and slowly smoothing the material, lowering my stroke toward the hem of the dress directly below my sacred place. Alistair shifted uncomfortably and I’m sure he was trying to hide a larger than usual bulge in the front of his jeans. What was my son thinking? What was I thinking? It was as if we were the only people in the room and the moment seemed to hang forever.
‘Well, if you’re not going to speak to us, we’re off to sort out Claire’s wardrobe and I’ll see you both later.’ I said, turning and ushering my daughter back upstair to sort through the remaining clothes. I could feel the boys staring at our bums and legs as we perkily bounced up the staircase.
It was quite weird and a little exciting thinking that my sons teenage friend was checking me over in a sexual manner. Even more intriguing, although slightly worrying, was my sons captivation and possible arousal whilst viewing his mother and sister in party frocks. Was he really aroused by us? . . . or was it the sexy clothing that had my poor baby excited? I was becoming a little flushed with these thoughts myself.
When we returned to Claire’s bedroom I asked her
‘Did you see John giving us the once over?’
‘Yes, He’s a little perv’ she replied
‘Oh? Hows that?’ I asked
‘Well he’s always making rude suggestions to all the friends that I know, and I mean ‘always’ to the extent of being obsessed’
‘What about Alistair, is he a Perv?’
‘No! All my mates fancy him.’
‘Yes, and all his mates fancy you my dear.’ I added
‘And you. . .’ she said surprising me. ‘. . . Even my boyfriend fancies you, I sometimes wonder if he’s round to visit me, or to ogle you mummy’ she finished. I detected, mixed sentiment in her statement, part humor, part bitterness.
I was fascinated by this revelation of news of the interest in me from all the young men, not to mention excited, but I had to diffuse the situation and not appear too enthusiastic to be finding out more.
‘I think not darling . . . now come and get some of these old outfits into a bag and I’ll take them to a charity shop next week.’ I said killing that conversation.
My head was suddenly filled with questions about all of my young admirers and little sparks of naughtiness began occupying my thoughts. To discover that all the boys ‘fancied’ me had me feeling quite sexy.
The remainder of the afternoon was spent clearing Claire’s room and enjoying the mummy, daughter bonding experience. I, in a slightly new and scheming way, suggested that I borrow one of her outfits and we both get ‘tarted up’ and go out clubbing together. There was a forthcoming weekend where Alistair and his dad were away on a fishing trip together this would be the ideal opportunity for us to hit the nightclubs. And I would have the opportunity to check out the young guys checking me out and see if it was true. I even thought to myself that I should pay a little closer attention to my daughters boyfriend and my sons pervert pal John and gauge their interest.
Later, when placing the carrier bags of clothing in my bedroom I closed the bedroom door, I knew it wouldn’t be long before hubby arrived home so I didn’t have to long before having to prepare dinner. I found myself sitting on the bed and thinking about what Claire had said to me. I slipped my hands around the hem of my skirt and rucked it up around my bottom, I then slowly slipped my fingers down the front of my panties.
Laying back, I pictured myself walking into the lounge in a catwalk model style, wearing a skimpy black party dress that tightly hugged my figure. All around the lounge sitting on the sofa and armchairs and some on the floor were the young male friends of my son and daughter. They fidgeted nervously as I paraded up and down for them before exiting the room to change into another outfit. Next up, it was a hip hugging satin pencil skirt and transparent white blouse, the boys fidgeted nervously as I strutted into the lounge. My boobies bounced and my nipples swelled as they gazed on my fashion parade and my body. This was a crazy fantasy. My imagination was running riot, I was rubbing my pleasure nub furiously and trying to stifle my moans so as Claire wouldn’t hear me next door.
In my mind as I entered the lounge for a third time, I wore only a white matching underwear set, stockings and white stiletto shoes. Stopping to strike poses, I thrust my hips forward one way, bent and exaggerated my backside and breasts another, stroked my thighs for enticement and smoothed the panty material seductively. I imagined the boys rubbing the front of their trousers in wicked thought.
I quickly exited the room, changed into my next outfit and entered to an amazed audience.
Laying on the bed I could feel my body tighten as I neared orgasm. Then . . . there I was before the group of horny young studs, naked, except for red patent high heeled shoes, walking around the lounge like a queen viewing her subjects. All around penises protruded from each of the fly’s on each of the young mens trousers. I was like a sex mad little red ridding hood in a forest of hard cocks. Laying on the bed I was moaning and bucking as little jolts of pleasure shot through my body driven by my fantasy. The boys were wanking for me. I pictured Claire’s boyfriend standing and undressing and walking toward me naked, he kissed me, deep french kisses, as the others wanked faster, excited. Next there was John who removed his clothes and joined us. I clasped both their cocks and gyrated in a seductive dance as I took to caressing their hot hard-ons. Suddenly everyone was coming. Strings of white cum shooting into the air, splashing all around, the thick cream running down the shafts of the swollen wet cocks. Cocks lubricated in frothy cum. Angry red cocks swollen with desire for me. Desire to be entering my body.
I was cuming!
As the orgasm shot through my body like a bolt of electricity the weirdest image entered my head, I was trembling in lust and all the boys in the lounge were smiling a beautiful, big loving smile. Only now, all the boys were the image of my son, Alistair. I was surrounded by my SON! His cock dripping sperm. My son was standing naked on each side of me, holding me and kissing my neck, squeezing me, LOVING me. My son was ALL the happy wankers in the room. I had put on a show for him and made him cum.
What was I thinking?
My sons apparent interest toward me earlier had perverted my mind. I was a little shaken by what I had just thought.
I loved sex and I loved my son but should I be mixing the thoughts together. This was so wrong.
It is said that a woman reaches her sexual peak in her late thirties / mid forties but I never for a minute thought that now that I had reached this age that my sexual longings would momentarily slip to be as twisted as this. I had to put this incest incident out of my mind and focus a little more on investigating my pulling power on forthcoming night out with my daughter, just for a bit of fun. I know that most other women of my age would love to be receiving attention from random, randy teenagers, so I had decided to go to the clubs and indulge in a little flattering playfulness. I’m sure I could convince my lovely daughter it was all just some harmless fun. We mothers and daughters do share such things.
Later that evening however, when I was preparing for bed, my husband asked what was in the carrier bags. I explained that it was Claire’s discarded fashion items that I was taking to the charity shop and I went on to tell him how revealing some of the outfits were. I noticed his eyes lit up at this and jokingly he asked
‘Do any of them fit you?’
I smiled and asked ‘Do you want to see?’
‘This could be fun’ he replied.’
It could be fun, was my immediate thought.
‘O.K . . . ‘ I paused ‘. . . look away and I’ll try and find something you’ll like’
As my husband turned his head to face the opposite side of the room, I rummaged in the bag, selecting a tiny white mini skirt and pink boob tube top — from my own wardrobe I selected my red patent leather high heeled shoes, I refreshed my ‘lippie’ with a pink gloss and tousselled-up my hair, completing my teen look. Not Bad for a forty something I thought, admiring myself in the full length mirror.
‘OK! You can look now’ I said, striking a hands on hip, an attitude laden pose, just like I had seen so many of the unruly teens do down at the shopping centre.
When my hubby turned, I could immediately tell by his face that he was super excited, like a puppy dog offered a biscuit.
‘Can I come beside you?’ I asked.
He drew back the covers revealing his huge hard-on that pointed across the nice clean bed sheets, a wide grin on his face.
He patted the bed beside him and whispered.
‘Come and sit here baby.’
‘Ooh your cocky has gone all hard.’
Hubby simply replied ‘err . . . yes baby.’
I could tell my husband Andy was feeling a little bit of confusion and hesitation as well as excitement. I was dressed in my daughters clothes and instigating sex play.
I climbed onto the bed smoothing the little tight skirt as I sat and leaned into Andy’s chest. I kissed him a playful peck.
I was going to play this naughty fun further, it had me feeling so hot. The thought of me dressed as my own daughter lying beside my hubby, him naked with his manhood all swollen and raging ready for action, wanting hot pussy, wanting to slip into and lather my love tunnel, sharing juices, kissing and squeezing. Ooh! It was exciting. I was thinking more crazy stuff.
As I started to imagine that I ‘WAS’ my daughter Claire the thought of having the power of seduction over men was enthralling me. I new she had regular sex with Robert, her boyfriend, after all, I washed her panties and regularly saw the evidence. And here I was, creating a filthy fantasy. My Husband seemed to be loving it. Simply pretending to be someone else was giving me a power to sexperiment as I pleased.
My hubby grabbed at me and started kissing me heavily, his tongue forcing into my mouth and his hot cock pressing onto my tummy.
I pulled back and smiled.
I clasped Hubbies hard-on and quickly wanked him as we continued kissing. He was bucking his pelvis in crazed excitement.
I paused to watch my husbands reaction. He was about to explode.
At that moment I felt a hot wetness spill over the ‘boob tube’ and splash my chin, as I looked down at the red swollen knob pulsing in my grip, several more times it blasted with powerful spurts, one catching me full in the face. My lurid suggestions had clearly excited hubby.
I parted my legs and slipped my hand inside the skirt inserting one of my fingers into my funnel of love. As I gazed toward my husbands ecstatic face, I started frigging myself. I was cumming in hot gushes. I tensed as hard as steel as the shocks of orgasm shot through my body, wave after wave of pleasure washed over me. I collapsed back, relaxing into a guilty warmth.
Both my husband and I lay silent, neither of us speaking. What was my husband thinking of me, I wondered as I closed my eyes concerning myself about how this event would play out? What would my husband say about it in the morning?
I kicked my shoes off and must have drifted into unconsciousness still wearing Claire’s little outfit.
I couldn’t wait for myself and daughter to go out on our disco clubbing date together.