*
“Don’t laugh,” Mom commanded as she rounded the doorframe and entered the lounge room, her appearance demanding my full attention though I didn’t really know where to look. I wanted to admire her legs, lengthened by the four inch heels. I ached to ogle her groin, her ass as she turned, and stare at her breasts almost bulging from the minuscule top, but I somehow controlled myself and looked squarely in her eyes. “Well, what do you think?” She added.
I’d made the decision to change clothes myself after dinner and was now regretting my choice as my dick spoke for me, miming its approval by swelling in my sweat pants.
“Your silence speaks volumes,” Mom proclaimed and attempted to see her reflection in the glass doors separating us from the kitchen. It was the diversion I needed as I adjusted the growing erection in my pants.
“No it’s not like that,” I assured her, finally finding my voice. “It’s just different is all!”
She turned back to me, her eyebrows raised expectantly.
“You look good,” I offered, not wanting to admit to my mother I thought she looked hot. “I mean you don’t look stupid,” I foolishly followed up and her face dropped.
“Oh great, so somewhere between stupid and good, is that it?” She good-naturedly responded. “Better bring me the bourbon,” she laughed.
“No all I mean is you can pull it off Mom,” I added, wondering if she noticed the possible double entendre?
“Oh, ok,” she seemed pleased. “Well, and I know this is gross, but what about my underwear?”
The question came out of the blue and I was totally unready for it.
“I’m sorry, what?” I stammered.
“My panties, can you see them?”
It gave me license to look directly at her groin, accentuated as she grasped the waist of the leggings and pulled them up, hugging her pubic bulge.
“I, um,” I ridiculously stumbled over my words, feeling my face flushing.
“Just…” even Mom paused, possibly only then realizing she was asking her son to look directly at her pussy and describe what he saw. “…can you see what color they are?”
“Black,” I instantly replied and she groaned in response.
“Bummer,” she remarked. “I was hoping they’d be opaque. Looks like I’ll need to go underwear shopping.”
She again turned her head to look at her rear in the glass reflection, pushing her bottom out provocatively and I ran my eyes over her breasts. I’d not really complimented her and I wished more than anything to do so without being overly lecherous. “I like the top,” I stated, her gaze heading back in my direction. “I mean, with the black bra underneath.” (Was I actually talking about my mother’s bra?)
“Really?” She questioned. “I probably wouldn’t wear this, black bra under a white top. Bit trashy don’t you think?”
“I don’t know, makes you look kinda like a biker chick,” I added. “It’s hot,” I confessed and again immediately felt my face redden at the admission.
“‘Hot!'” Mom raised her eyebrows, a smirk developing as she saw me begin to squirm.
“I mean ‘it’s’ hot, not you. Well you are but not..I mean I don’t think you’re hot…not like that. You look good!” I was babbling and wanted to crawl under the cushions and die, Mom seemingly taking my breakdown in her stride.
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