– First, thigh highs were sexier and, unlike Mom’s Walmart pantyhose, the stockings they bought were pure silk…thus they were even better at accentuating Mom’s legs, making her look and feel sexy.
-Second, there should always be easy access to a pet’s pussy.
My slut also insisted Mom buy some sexy boots (that way she could look sexy while simultaneously being practical for the New England weather, especially based on the crazy 2010-11 winter).
Mom protested that she was going up to see her son, but Mrs. Raske was insistent and Mom, being the submissive she was, gave in.
I also kept chatting through Skype and texting with Allison, who was planning to come visit the school, unfortunately with her mom, a couple of weeks after Mom’s visit.
Our chats were getting more personal, but it was in the texts, where she was way less shy than when on Skype, that she hinted at all the things I already knew… although she obviously didn’t say she was a submissive to my sister, but she implied she was a curious, adventurous and willing to try anything kind of woman.
Anyway, Mom flew in, and , because I don’t have a vehicle, I took three buses to meet her at her hotel.
When she opened her door, my cock immediately hardened. She had always been pretty, but her makeover at the hands of her neighbour (and, unknown to her, my submissive) had transformed her to a complete MILF knockout.
She was wearing a blouse that was tight against her breasts, a black skirt that was just above the knees (sexy, but not slutty), black nylons that had a seam running down the back and black three inch boots.
Knowing she was unwittingly dressing up for me enhanced the situation for me.
“Mom, you look,” I paused for dramatic effect, “hot.”
Mom blushed, “Mrs. Raske insisted on giving me a fashion makeover.”
“Well, it worked,” I nodded, and gave her a hug. My hands slyly landing on the top of her ass…not inappropriate, but definitely lower than I would have gone in previous hugs.
Breaking it, I asked, “It’s past your usual dinner time, are you hungry?”
“Starving,” she nodded, my Mom used to regularly scheduled eating. She was a type two diabetic and thus needed to eat regularly.
“We are two blocks from the original Cheers bar if you want to go there,” I suggested, knowing it was a show both my parents liked and still watched on reruns.
“That would be great,” she nodded.
“Let’s go,” I suggested, and then we headed out.
As soon as we were outside, I offered Mom my arm, as the streets were slightly treacherous with the melting snow.
We walked and chatted as I showed her the public Boston Common, which even in winter was very nice… in summer it was beautiful.
We got to the bar, ordered food and caught up. After dinner, Mom spent almost a hundred bucks in the Cheers souvenir shop and took a few pictures.
We then took a short taxi ride downtown and I showed her the downtown market, we walked down by the harbor and ended the evening going on a ghost walk tour. Mom, who scares easily, took my arm for the walk and, when in a graveyard, I made just the slightest of advancements by taking her hand in mine.