“Just- just,” the young man floundered. “Out. Just out. With some of the guys.”
“Did you lose your phone? Did you break it? Was it off?” Questions fired like machine gun rounds, each punctuated by her heel. “Did you not get my texts? Were you too busy to notice it going off? Or just didn’t care?”
“Mom, I-” he groped for the words, eyes desperate. “I’m a grown man now, mom. I shouldn’t-”
“Sit. Down.”
Tom pulled a face but dropped into a seat at the kitchen table. He looked miserable. Amanda’s voice softened.
“Honey,” she said. “I worry. You know I do. I don’t ask for much. Just let me know when you’re going to be late coming back.” Amanda hopped back up on one of the stools.
“I know you’re a good boy,” she said, crossing her legs absently, trying to ignore the pleasant tingle. As the hose sizzled, Tom glanced up. “Just let me know, okay?” She recrossed her legs.
“Okay,” he said, then blinked, and looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry mom. It won’t happen again, okay? Can I go now?”
“No, you can’t go,” Tom sighed and rolled his eyes, and stretched the full length of his legs out under the table. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, either.” Amanda recrossed her legs, and saw his eyes flicker up. He straightened up, and mumbled an apology. “We still have to talk about- about- about what happened here this morning.”
A wretched look crossed Tom’s features as the heat rose in his face. “Mom, I- I mean I don’t- I mean I’d never- I mean it’s not-”
“It’s okay, honey.” The hose sizzled and his eyes flickered and the blush faded a little. Amanda felt the heat of her anger drain away as the tingling in her legs radiated from the tips of her toes on up to her scalp. “I know-” she swallowed. “I know that young men have- have needs. And I know you haven’t been able to take care of them the same way since I said you couldn’t borrow my car.” Amanda let one shoe slip from her heel, and dandled it on the end of her toes. Tom watched it bob, and listened to the sizzle of her hose. “Isn’t that right, honey?”
“Y-yeah,” he said in a faraway voice. “That’s right, mom.” Tom shifted in his chair, eyes on the arch of his mother’s size-five foot. Amanda’s fingers toyed with the hem of her skirt, which had wandered somewhere north of her knee.
“So, I understand.” The hem of her skirt inched higher up her thigh. “I understand why you- why you ended up-” pumping that thick young cock into my sexy fucking pantyhose, part of her wanted to scream “-doing what you did, okay? But I don’t ever want to see you doing that again, alright Tom?” There was a glimmer around her well-turned ankle, and Tom’s eyes chased it up the muscles in her calf, over her knee, and across the expanse of smooth, smoky-grey thigh.
“Absolutely, mom.” Tom agreed without thinking. “Never again.”
“Good,” she said, smiling. She recrossed her legs, letting the other heel dangle, and relishing the building giddy pleasure deep in her core. “Good. Now, if you’re good. And *only* if you’re good for the rest of the week, I’ll let you borrow the car on Friday. How does that sound?” The hem of her skirt had rucked all the way up around the tops of her thighs, and as they worked, Tom’s eyes were locked on the glimmering pattern circling just below where the fabric ended.