A New Outlook

Another funny thing hit me. I spotted the distinctive label on both her bra and undies. They were bought from this very store. I began to wonder at a scenario where she was leading a double life, or if she had some generous and enticing, secret admirer. Either way, this was not her first encounter with the sex store, I was too dumbfounded to ask for an explanation. My mind was occupied with the muffled sounds of a leather harness being tied to hot flesh. I couldn't resist the taboo urge to sneak an actual look at her naked body while she wrestled the black bustier into position around her swelling chest.

We were back to back in the little closet but I got a full view of her firm, rounded butt cheeks and in the mirrors I could see as she positioned the small triangles of material to cover her breasts. The sexy foundation pushed her ample bosom up and out, and she worked to secure her nipples but plump-up her fleshy attributes. When Becky leaned over to slide the new, sheer G-string up her thighs, I again could feel her soft, bouncy bum against my legs. And for an instant, I gaped at the tight crevice separating her taut cheeks and glimpsed the delicate, pink folds of the outer lips of her tight vagina. How could this possibly be my mom, acting coy but flagrantly stripping with her son literally on her back?

I exhaled a hesitant gasp as she straightened up and in the reflection, I caught a look at her ice-blue eyes studying me with no real hint of shyness. She heard my muffled breath and when she finally tightened the skimpy bottoms around her hips, and felt as confident in her appearance as the situation allowed, she instructed me to turn around and offer my opinion on her choice of wardrobe. I was stunned. This was without precedent. My poor eyes must have bugged-out of their sockets and my cartoonishly open mouth produced nothing but slobberl. She seemed pleased with my reaction, but now some slight embarrassment colored her face. She hopped side to side with a slight cackling noise, belying the alluring vixen she appeared. Her indecision was apparent, but she gamely soldiered on. This was some sort of mission.

She stood a bit ungracefully, hands on hips and biting her lip. "How does this look, not too ridiculous I hope?" was her first question. Becky continued to fumble with the six square inches of fabric that strained to conceal her taut, voluptuous frame. She was like a novice stripper making her first appearance on stage and fearing a "wardrobe malfunction." I like this little number, but you can see that there is no way that I could wear this to the party. I think I'll keep this for just around the house." Then came a few more chuckles. My mind was reeling at this new attitude and I could not believe what I was hearing. Then she pointed to another outfit on the cluttered bench and asked for my assistance in helping her to disrobe. It became obvious that a lot of this collection had nothing to do with Halloween. I was puzzled.

She turned around as I untied the laces to her top, then the next thing I realized was that the sexy garment was in my hands and she was wiggling the tiny bottoms down her muscular legs. In a second, she was completely naked, and though facing away from me, I could see in the mirrors her entire body, nude and lovely. And I also noticed when I worked the nerve to find her eyes, that her stare never left mine. Becky knew that I was ogling her luscious body and it appeared that she relished the sensation. I saw her take a deep breath and her shoulders visibly lifted, then she turned to me. "Now," she purred, "will you hand me the body suit. I have to see how it will look with these pumps."

She then went on, "I don't see any reason why we should keep dodging this subject, I'm your mother and I need to get undressed. You're my son and I guess you're going to look at my body. I need your help in so many ways and we have to get past this uptight morality. And I still need to pick-out my costume. So please give me the cat-suit." My ears were ringing, did she just say all that, and did I hear it correctly? I guess I am going to be thinking about this for quite a while, but for now, she wanted my help and I am her son...

I couldn't be sure if I had just been scolded like a child, or invited to partake of a delicious meal. Was she saying that as my mother, this was nothing more than an adult son taking an adult responsibility when he was needed most? Or was I being admonished to view her anatomy as nothing more than a clinical observation? I lent a hand to assist her, but a troubling thought persisted, it was nearly impossible but my mother wanted for me to see her naked and to admire what I saw.

I had entirely forgotten the purpose for us being in this store in the first place, the purchase of a Halloween costume. And here was my mom, naked, no more than three uncomfortable inches away, and I was sweating through my shirt. Becky seemed remarkably calm in her nudity. "I need to sit down so that I can put on these stockings. There's no reason for you to leave now, or to keep turning away, so you may as well help me." She worked the black fishnets along her smooth, toned calves and then reached for the one-piece that I held in my trembling hands. I handed her a slinky tabby-striped leotard with a long, attached furry tail. Then she stood to face me.

My mother, certainly not looking like a forty year old homemaker, was standing completely nude, with an inquisitive look waiting for my shocked reaction. I watched in amazement as the bodysuit was tugged in to place, forming a dark, second skin over her closely trimmed snatch and then swallowing the delightful mounds of her full chest. The suit left little to the imagination, it would be clear that she was not wearing underpants or bra.

After sliding the suit up her stockinged thighs and covering her bare pussy, she sipped her arms into the straps and tugged it up to her neck. There was just enough fake fur to camouflage her sweet tits and it had a built-in support to compress the sides and accentuate her cleavage, amazingly enlarging the appearance of her bust. I felt that the deep hollow of her chest would begin to produce echoes. There was a headpiece with silky cat ears, some long gloves with fake claws, and some adhesive whiskers to complete the vampy look. When she stepped into a pair of four-inch, fur-topped heels, the result was weirdly erotic. All other tomcats would be horny and jealous. This was not my mom!

"Well," she asked in a throaty, suggestive tone. One that was unmistakably sultry but eerily alarming coming from my own mother. "How does the old lady look? Do you think they'll like it at the office?" Again, she couldn't tamp down her giggles. But she seemed to be following my eyes as they veered to all of her honey points. And when I smiled, she smiled.

I was finally able to form words, but they were mostly one-syllable and came out sputtering. "Mmmom," I started with my tongue feeling too large for my mouth. "Thhhis is hottt. You look great. Bbbut are you sure you want to wear this get-up to work?"

She enjoyed my discomfort. "I could wear the first one if you like that better, " she smiled. "But I thought that would be just for a private audience. I thought you got a kick out of that one. You can pick-out some accessories if you like, I saw some interesting stuff in the fetish department..." she smiled. "Now help me get out of this." Becky started to strip again, right infront of me and tossing worn garments at me. Her self-esteem was soaring. I should have been delighted for her, but it was all so confusing. It was my job to gather everything while she arranged the boring clothes that she wore into the place.

I had a big smile on my face as we packed-up the goodies, and I discerned that she hadn't auditioned some of the pieces. I still had a serious hard-on in my trousers as we readied to leave. Just before we opened the door, she slid her hand along the bulge in my pants and cupped her palm around my aching ball sac, and laughed. I nearly jumped through the ceiling and my voice raised two octaves. "Mom," I yelped in total surprise. "What are you doing?" Her devilish smile returned. She said that a girlfriend from work had developed this as a test for her man.

"Just checking," she tittered. "I want to make sure you genuinely liked it. I also have an outfit here for a Thanksgiving costume if you are telling the truth. You'll have to get something to match it. Mine is of an Indian maiden, you could be a stud Pilgrim." She continued to chuckle as we made our way out the door. I don't know what caused this erotic metamorphosis, but things certainly changed for the better.

We stowed the packages in the car, and on the ride home she casually but pointedly defined just how much I meant to her. That she could explore her inner self with me and not feel ashamed, and that she was steadily growing to rely on my confidence and discretion. She said that she felt more assured with each moment that her decisions and feelings would be reciprocated, and that she could count on my unwavering acceptance. And I promised her that I would always do my best to support her, no matter what anyone else thought. And that what we shared had no bounds. This seemingly comforted her and she answered that she sincerely appreciated that, and was seeing me as more than "only" her son. The entire night was a bit disorienting to me.

The party proved to be a mixed success. She won a big prize for her costume. Though she hinted to me later that some of her male coworkers made some rude remarks. And a couple of women opined that she was a (prick) tease. She resigned herself to going back to more conservative apparel at work. Then she said that she would confine her new, liberated attitude to someone that she found to be a more sympathetic soul, a person that she could always trust to help her explore the darker side of her emerging personality. I thought that maybe she had found some romantic interest through the company and was advised by him to lower the heat a bit. I honestly had no idea what she meant and didn't feel it was my place to ask, if she didn't intend to bring it up. I was also a bit shamefully disappointed that she would be showing-off her new-found talents to someone else. That would be one lucky guy!

In the following evenings she began to browse the store's website, checking-out their clothes and some toys. She asked for my opinion on various outfits and the kind of things that I found sexy. It became strange to rate these sultry or raunchy items and to visualize her using the creams or dildoes pictured on the pages. Even more so while she was seated next to me and sometimes inquiring if the toys could be used by a couple. Plus, she was getting used to resting her hand on my groin while we talked and feeling for the anticipated erection when she asked questions. It was an odd way for her to gauge my enthusiasm. Sort of a sexual-response interrogation. Becky started to freely grab my crotch when she showed me pictures or described her ideas, saying that she learned, "the larger the boner, the more sure I am that you like it." She always tried to reassure me, and convince me of the passion in her quest. I was still trying to determine her motive. The best that I could figure, was that she wanted to try something daring with some new guy, but that she needed to make certain that nothing would cause embarrassment or pain. My role was to be the test subject, and to give her honest but passionless feedback. My mom deserved to find happiness, and I guess it fell to me to facilitate that desire.

You might think that I was being sent mixed messages. But I just couldn't believe that any message, no matter how graphic or bizarre, could involve my mother making some really weird passes at me. So I had to be especially certain that I did not appear to be "making a play" for her. I just accepted that this was her chosen way to prepare for a transformation from quiet, stay at home mother, to a sensual, self-assured, MILF, out to catch a man. I was satisfied that she met a man who was most probably more experienced than her, and might have been pressuring her or losing interest in her, and felt that she wanted to take the next step, and that probably involved his bedroom. I know that she hated for anyone to think that she might act or appear slutty. But the world was telling her that smut is in the eye of the beholder, and a little dirty sex might be a fun thing. So as strange as it seems, I was the one she depended on to instruct her on the seamier side of sex. I would be the first person to hear her deepest thoughts on sexuality and to give her a man's view on what we find erotic.

One night we talked about some nearly deviant scenarios that brought-out some intense emotional feelings. Compounded with her new habit of rubbing my cock through my tight jeans, we were both breathing hard and perspiring heavily. I don't know that she realized how close her little "truth detector" came to igniting my passions. I couldn't help but notice that her pert, stubby nubs were drilling holes through her gauzy top. And that her hand continued the heavy friction over the front of my pants, even when her questions had fallen silent. Sometimes her eyes squeezed closed, and her lips trembled as if she was speaking to someone or tasting something sweet. And I remembered that the light laughter that usually accompanied her awkward questions, and that made me smile so much, was not nearly as common.

At the end of the conversation, I was too embarrassed to rise from the couch due to an aching lump protruding from my loins. But she was excited about something she wasn't letting me in on. She got up to leave, but before she did, she kissed me on the cheek and neck. She nuzzled my ear and whispered to me in a conspiratorial tone, that she truly needed to know that I supported and accepted the stunning change that she was going through. She promised that if I am encouraging and protective of her, that our family dynamic would improve a great deal. I could only take that to mean that a potential step-father was in the offing. I was becoming abnormally jealous of some guy that I had never met, over an experience that I could never have, with a woman I should not be thinking about. This led to some odd masturbation fantasies.

The other night she debuted another mystery outfit that she purchased at YE OLDE SEX SHOPPE. After taking her evening bath she normally watches TV in a full length cotton robe and bunny slippers. I generally pay it no mind and this night was no different. As I settled in next to her on the couch, I caught a glimpse of silk stockings as she crossed her ankles. I know that on occasion she meets her girlfriends for late night gab sessions, and there was suddenly this secret stranger who may have called for a rendezvous. So I asked her if she had plans for the evening.

"No," she replied innocently. "There isn't any actual plan, I just thought I would try something out for you." With that, she opened her robe, letting it fall from her shoulders and stood infront of me. The tiny one-piece that appeared to be glued to her body, was seemingly made from translucent vinyl triangles of white material connected by fine chains. It strained to cover her abundant chest, was open in the middle revealing her finely toned belly, and the metal links held up a small opaque sliver of plastic that definitely was split at the crotch but had an extra piece of fabric Velcroed to it's surface. It looked as if a schoolyard basketball backboard had melted over her body from the heat of her foxy torso.

On close inspection, though I wasn't sure if I was to ogle it or modestly or avert my eyes, I spied two more Velcro strips that served to conceal her perky nipples. Apparently there were cut-outs over the breasts that could be exposed or hidden depending on the teasing mood of the wearer. My mom was standing with hands on hips, turning gently to give me an overall view. Becky bounced a little on her toes to add a little jiggle to the package, and performed some slow pirouettes to emphasize that the back was only a thin white ribbon of lace and fine metal rope. She bent over touching her stockinged toes, then reached up to fluff her shaggy mane of reddish-blonde locks, all to reveal her nearly bare ass and the soft, firm undersides of those shapely breasts.

She was flaunting her bodacious body before me and alternately clasping her butt cheeks, giving each one a light spank, and grabbing her tits from the bottom, gently juggling them in her small hands. This was to remind me, as if I couldn't appreciate, how much of her gorgeous form was on display. "Well, what do you think?" She cooed seductively, "I had to work-up the nerve to dress like this infront of you. I'm not sure I could wear anything like this for someone else. Do you think that this would do the trick to get the energy flowing?" Her nervous hiccup was cute and endearing.

It certainly looked great and she was extremely desirable, and it was all designed for someone's pleasure. She was practicing on me, knowing that her secrets, failures or successes would be kept to just us, and it took great determination for her to present herself like this, to her son's leering inspection. And still I was torn. Some mysterious stranger was going to reap the benefits of this lovely woman in this "come fuck me" outfit.

In my mind, I was already on top of her. Those Velcro strips would need to be reinforced with steel to keep me from chewing through them. There was no nonchalant way of repositioning my engorged cock, and sweat formed on my drooling upper lip when I stammered-out, "Mom, that's a pretty racy outfit for a first time encounter. And what are the little add-ons for?" I was torn between support and lust.

She saw me struggling with my erection and smiled with a pixie grin. "I hope that monster in your shorts is a true indication," then she casually stroked the enlarged organ with the pink-painted nails of her long fingers. The hot friction of her fingertips scraping against the flannel material of my shorts sent electric sparks to my cock. Her smile was ear-to-ear. She then carefully reached for the corner of the piece hiding her left breast, but only patted it temptingly. "These are for when the mood is right. I guess you have to be ready, because there is no going back after that point."

I didn't know if she meant herself or her mysterious suitor. But I know that I was almost at the boiling point. I whistled and sucked in my breath. "Wow," I exclaimed, feeling any minute that a tidal wave was about to roll over me. "When that tidy package is unwrapped, I think you had better be prepared for immediate action." Her response was a short series of involuntary high-pitched hoots. I said, "I hope you understand what you're asking for, when it starts there won't be any way to turn back." I kissed her cheek and couldn't resist the urge to pat her firm ass, since she had become so easy in rubbing my cock. We both laughed a bit nervously, and I headed to my room. I had a serious appointment with my cock and some hand lotion. The idea of incestuous sex was dangerously close at hand, in my head.

Before I left the room, she said, "Thanks for your honest opinion. I hope you understand what a difficult step this is. I'm flattered and grateful that you find me sexy, but maybe you're right. It might be too much, too soon. I just want something so desperately that I may be pushing too hard, I'd hate to ruin things before they get off the ground. You are so sweet to keep me from doing anything foolish." She was wrapping the robe around her and cinching the sash around her curvy torso, when I left the room. For the first time in a while, I saw her smile droop. I felt awful that somehow I had popped her bubble, but I really believed I was trying to do the right thing.