But at some point I must have drifted off because I was wakened by Mum calling me to get up or I’d be late.
On college days she always made me a cooked breakfast, to ‘set me up for the day,’ as she was fond of saying.
After showering, shaving and dressing I made my way downstairs, but hesitated on the last couple of steps to gain my composure. But needn’t have bothered. She must have heard me and shouted her usual, “Good a morning love, did you sleep well? Breakfast is almost ready.”
“Thanks Mum”, I shouted back from the dining room, “D’you think you do me a piece of fried bread please?”
“There’s something tastier than fried bread here for you love, come and see!” she called back.
I walked into the kitchen and froze in my tracks.
Mum had her back to me but was bending down adjusting her skirt.
It was hitched up high on one thigh showing the top of a sheer black nylon stocking. I stepped closer and saw she was fastening a stocking top to one of three thin black suspender straps.
I stood speechless, my eyes transfixed on the long straight seams of her stockings, following them down to those deeply erotic ‘fuck me’ heels.
Her skirt was hitched up just high enough to show one tantalizing cheek of her ass and the sheer black lace of her knickers.
Still bending over she craned her head to one side, her eyes working down my body, finally fixating on my bulging crotch.
“Are my seams straight love? Check them for me. They should be perfectly straight from the stocking top to the heel. Adjust them for me if they need it,” she asked innocently.
“Y..yess Mum,” I stammered.
“Do you really like my legs Jack?” she said with a smile.
I just nodded, my mouth agape like a village idiot. This couldn’t be my Mum! She didn’t do stuff like that. I mean, I’d never heard her swear, even once, in our whole lives.
Then she straightened up, smoothed down her skirt and turned towards me.
“Are these the right colour stockings and suspenders you were telling me about yesterday love? Is this how I look in your dreams? Am I wearing them properly?”
I nodded, not knowing what to say.
“Anyway,” she said, “You go and lay the breakfast table love and I’ll do that fried bread for you. Get a move on or we’ll both be late.”
Then my brain switched on and I said,”What d’you say I take a photo of you in that glamour pose, y’know, to go towards my portfolio Mum? Y’never know, the photos might come in useful in the future?”
She smiled and nodding said, “Better make it quick love, I don’t want to be late for work.” As I left the room she added, “These photos are just for us Jack, definitely not for any portfolio!”
“Okay Mum!, No problem!” I shouted back, racing into the next room to recover the camera from my college bag.
A couple of minutes later I was shooting photos of her while she pretended to adjust her stockings, firing off instructions to her like a pro.
And in turn she responded like a trained model, moving to catch the light, posing to emphasise her most photogenic features.
My best shots were taken at stocking top height. I managed to catch the morning sun streaming in through the kitchen window and creating highlights on the black silk.