Then she turned round to face me, beckoned me over to her side, placed her arms around my neck, and gave me a gentle peck on my cheek. “I’m sorry I was so angry before,” she said softly. “I know you do your best. Now give Mummy a cuddle.”
I slipped my arms around her waist and cuddled her for a moment, all the time acutely aware of the fact she was without her skirt. I was looking down at her legs and stockings even as we embraced and I could not stop myself from becoming hard. Then I was appalled as she suddenly pulled me tight, and my hardness was against her tummy. I was terrified she would feel me and I tried to squirm away. It only lasted a moment and then she released me and indicated I could go.
I made quickly for the door, but as I reached it she spoke again.
“You’re a good boy really. Aren’t you Michael.”
I turned to reply and was immediately stunned by her pose. She stood there, legs slightly apart, hands on her hips with elbows outwards, and head slightly tilted to one side in a sort of questioning stance. I nodded responsively at her, whilst at the same time trying to keep my eyes up, and not look down at the way she was displaying her stocking-clad legs. Needless to say I failed miserably. She looked so damn sexy like that and I simply couldn’t help but stare down at her nylons.
For a moment there was silence, and then she said softly, “You like mummy’s stockings don’t you?”
My cock was hard but my mouth was dry. I had no idea how to reply, and I just stood there looking at her.
“Well!” mother said sharply.
“I…” I began. Then it all came out. “Yes Mummy,” I whispered. “I like them very much”.
She smiled a strange sort of smile and dismissed me with a wave of her hand. I went out and sat straight down on the sofa in the lounge. My head was spinning. What had just happened I wondered? What did it mean? Where would it lead? I think I was shaking at little, but more with excitement than fear. This was my fantasy starting to come true. My mother clearly understood how much I was attracted to her (or to her legs anyway), and more importantly, much more importantly, she didn’t seem to mind. I just sat there with a feeling of anticipation, knowing instinctively this wasn’t the end of the story but just the beginning.
Some time later mother emerged from her bedroom, now fully dressed again. and seeming to act as if nothing had happened. I confess I was slightly disappointed. I obviously had no idea what was going to happen but I think I’d expected (or at least hoped) for something more significant. But the day went on as any other Saturday. Mother made dinner, I cleared up, doing the washing up and tidying the kitchen. Then we both sat down to watch the television. Neither of us said anything though, and there was a slight air of tension between us.
It wasn’t until late in the evening things changed. Mother went to her bedroom (as she normally did) to take off her day clothes and put on her dressing gown. She came out shortly afterwards but something was very different. She had indeed put on a dressing gown but not the thick cloth one she usually wore. Instead she was dressed in a lacy nylon gown that was virtually transparent. I could clearly see the outlines of her underwear through the material. The dark brown of her stocking tops and the white of her brassiere poking sharply through the nylon. I also noticed she was wearing make-up, eye-liner and lipstick, making her look younger and more attractive.