“Oh, Hannah,” she smiled, suddenly near tears of a different kind. “I needed to hear that.”
“Mom, you’re a beautiful woman inside and out,” I continued, a sweet idea popping into my head. Maybe I could help her out of this funk!
“Thank you, honey,” she said, enjoying the compliments, noticing my hand slithering at a snail’s pace up her thigh.
“Where do you get these nylons; they’re super soft,” I said, knowing they were real sheer silk and not some cheap brand.
“Some girls spend their money on shoes, I spend mine on nylons,” she replied, seeming to be comfortable with the fact I was gently caressing her legs.
“Good choice,” I approved. “They’re as soft as silk and really make your lovely legs stand out.”
“Thank you, honey,” she smiled again. “Your father never seemed to notice.”
“His loss,” I said, moving my hand ever so slightly under her dress to discover she was actually wearing stockings and a garter. “Mom!” I asked, surprised. “This is some lovely stuff! Who are you wearing it for?”
“Myself,” she answered with a shy smile, allowing me to lift up her dress enough to admire her black lace garter.
I took her hands, pulled her up off the sofa and dropped to my knees.
Did part of me want to bury my face in my mother’s pussy?
God, yes. I wanted it badly and I knew she needed it badly, but a slow seduction was much better for a potential long-term goal.
Mom asked, surprised as she looked down at me, “Hannah, what are you doing?”
“Just taking a look at this lovely garter,” I dissembled, which was partly true. I was also doing hygiene recon to see if my Mom was shaved.
She was!
“Oh, I bought it online. I buy all my nylons and lingerie online,” she answered, and stood there like a sexy mannequin as I traced my hand over the garter belt, resisting the temptation to touch her cute black panties… which looked like a thong.
“Are you wearing a thong?”
“Thongs are all I own,” she admitted.
“Mom, you are a complete enigma,” I said, as I took the risk and flicked my hands around to her ass to grab the thong and tug it out of, then snap it back into her ass.
“Hannah!” she gasped, moving away slightly.
“Sorry,” I apologized again. “It’s just something we do in the change room to girls in thongs.”
“Really?” She asked.
“Yep,” I nodded. “Guys whip towels at each other’s asses and we tug thongs.”
“Why?” she asked.
“I literally have no idea,” I answered, which was true. So was the fact that we did indeed tug thongs. It was a tradition, but no one seemed to know where it started.
“Weird,” she said, although she didn’t move away from me.
“Do you have any more of these sheer nylons?” I asked, an idea of how to seduce my mother slowly blossoming in my head.
“Quite a few,” she laughed. “It’s my shopping addiction.”
“Can I try on a pair?” I asked, standing up. “All I wear are these cheap ones.”
“Sure,” she nodded, so I took her hand.
“Let’s go try some now,” I said.
“Now?” she asked.
“I can’t think of a better way to cheer a girl up than by trying on clothes,” I pointed out.
“Well, okay,” she said, following me, even though she was trying to process how clothes were going to cheer her up.