My Mom is a Hot Mom Ch. 06

SimonDoom©

My mom always had a talent for looking elegant without trying too hard.

She looked elegant now, sitting to the right of me at a small, round, wrought-iron table under the shade of an elm tree on the patio of a restaurant in the city. Mom wore a sleeveless white top and a cornflower blue pleated skirt that stopped a few inches above her knee. Her legs were bare and tanned, and she wore blue pumps that matched her skirt.

I was dressed more formally than usual, in khaki pants and a pale blue, open-collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up. I also wore well-shined black loafers that had spent the entire summer in the closet. I had some plans for the day, and to pull them off I wanted to look older than I was.

Mom and I were having lunch together and enjoying the unseasonable warmth of a mid-fall afternoon.

When we sat down at the table, I was struck by the incongruity of mom's appearance and the memory of what had happened between us a few days earlier. I looked at the elegant woman in the white top and blue skirt in front of me, and for a moment I doubted whether my memory of our time in the shower together was even real. For the first half hour of our lunch, our conversation never touched on the crazy things that we had done together in the past few weeks. Mom asked me about school, and about my classes, and she told me an anecdote about an employee at the company she worked for that had been complaining about a boss with wandering hands. But she made no mention of the things we had done together, things I couldn't stop thinking about.

Mom got a phone call, and she said it was someone from work and that she had to take it. While she took the call, I looked out at the partly shaded patio around me and thought about the previous week.

Only five days earlier mom and I had lain on the shower floor while she had given me a foot job. Of course, it was impossible to get the images of that moment out of my head, and the next day I'd felt like a ravenous beast, wanting more of her. But it didn't happen. Our busy schedules got in the way, and during the brief times we were together over the next few days I had the impression from mom that she needed a break from the craziness. It was the same pattern as before. So, I laid off her for a while, or tried to. My cock got a workout from my hand several times a day, to ease my agitation. And I kept thinking about the next step to take. Because, whatever mom's hesitation was, I knew I wanted to take another step, and that I was going to. But what to do?

I didn't just want to fuck my mom. I mean, I did want to fuck her, very, very badly, but I wanted something else, and I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I wanted to push her. She had shown me something in her, and I wanted to tease it out, encourage it, bring it to full flower. I started to form a plan. It seemed crazy, and I knew mom would resist it. But I thought I could overcome her resistance, or, maybe more accurately, that I could say and do the right things to make her overcome her own resistance. I thought about it a lot, and I finally figured out a plan for the next step.

And that's what brought me to lunch with my mom on a sunny, pleasant fall day on the patio of a trendy restaurant.

Mom's call ended and she put her phone away. Before either of us could say anything, the waiter arrived. He brought mom a green salad with vinaigrette and me a seasonal squash soup with a dribble of crème fraiche over the surface. The waiter left, and we sampled our first courses for a couple of minutes in silence.

It was a surprise when, unprompted, mom asked me a question with no trace of a connection to anything we had talked about to that point during our lunch.

"Randy, do you think I'm a slut?"

The question popped out of mom's mouth with no warning. Mom had just finished a bite of her salad. My mouth was full of squash soup, which I had to work hard to stop from spitting up. I swallowed it, with some effort, and I looked up at my mom. She looked at me intently, with eyes wide and searching and her lips pressed tightly against each other.

"Mom, why would you ask that?" I asked.

Mom took a moment to marshal her thoughts before answering me.

"It's just -- everything we've done together recently. Randy, you've seen me in a way that sons don't usually see their mothers. We've done things together that mothers and sons don't usually do. I worry about what you think. What you think of me."

I was surprised. She hadn't said anything like this in the days after our last encounter in the shower.

"Mom, no," I said. "I don't think of you that way and I would never call you that. I think you're a very, very sexual woman. And you're hot. There's no doubt about that. But I wouldn't call you . . . that word."

Mom looked at me across the table, steadily, with a hint of a frown.

"You don't look satisfied," I said.

"Well," she said. "I appreciate what you just said. I just keep thinking about what we did in the shower the other day." She leaned over the table. "I made you come, Randy, with my feet! I just keep thinking how slutty I must have looked to you. What a slut I must seem like to you now."

"Mom," I said, "you sound like you're trying to convince me that you are a slut. Like you want me to think you're a slut. Is that what you want?"

That stopped her for a few seconds.

"No, that's . . . that's not it, I just want . . .." She couldn't finish her thought.

"Mom," I interrupted her. "You're a sexual person. I've learned a lot about you recently. And I love it. I wouldn't change anything about it. I love you exactly the way you are."

"You do?" mom asked me, her eyes searching mine.

"I do, mom," I said. I leaned over the table to talk to her more quietly. "And you can't really call yourself a slut if you're not fucking a lot of guys, and I don't think you've fucked anybody in over a year. We've done stuff together. But we haven't fucked. Yet."

I let the word "yet" linger at the table, and mom stayed silent. I leaned a little closer.

"But mom," I continued. "If you want me to think of you as a slut, if you want me to call you a slut, if that turns you on -- I will. Do you want your son to call you a slut? Is that what you want?"

I was speaking quietly but insistently. No one could hear me but mom, but I could tell she was hanging on every word. I could see the conflict and the desire in her face. But she didn't say anything.

"I'll tell you what, mom," I said. "It's been a few days since you've done anything slutty, so how about if I have you do something slutty and we'll see how we both feel about."

"You mean today?" she asked.

"I mean right now," I replied. I sat back in my chair and grinned at her.

"In this restaurant? Here?" she asked. "What do you want me to do?"

"Mom, "I said, putting on a lascivious grin for her, "Take off your panties. Pull them down your legs to your feet, and then kick them to me and I'll take them."

"We're in public, Randy," she said.

"I know, mom," I said. "But you told me before, when you were with dad, you spread your legs on the beach in front of over a hundred people who walked by. That was in public."

Mom had no reply to that. She looked at me. Then she looked over my shoulder, and then to either side of her. I could tell she was thinking about it. She wanted to see if anyone might be looking.

I saw the struggle in her face, but her desire won out. Mom exhaled a short, sharp breath of air, and then she put both of her hands under the table on either side of her dress. I saw what she was doing, just a little, through the lattice of the wrought-iron tabletop. I saw mom lift off the seat of her chair, her hands working at the panties under the dress fabric. Then I saw one hand reach quickly up under the dress. Just moments later I saw it: a pair of tiny blue panties, emerging from below the hem of mom's elegant dress and stretched between her knees. Mom wriggled her knees and legs, and the panties dropped down her shins to her feet. She covered them hastily as well as she could with her shoes, and then she looked up, obviously to see if anyone had noticed her. I didn't follow her gaze. I just looked at the fringes of the blue panties peeking out from under mom's shoes under the table.

Mom's eyes darted around the table in front of her until she looked down at her lap. She wriggled her torso until the napkin on her lap fell off, and then mom took advantage of the ruse to scoop up both napkin and panties off the ground. She covered the tiny panties easily in her fist and stuffed them into her small purse.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" I asked.

"It wasn't easy!" she said with a grin. "I hope you are satisfied."

"I'm satisfied with that," I said. "But that's not enough. I've got a lot more in mind than that."

I paused and let that sit with her. Mom looked at me with an expression of curiosity and puzzlement, with a hint of fear. She did not know what I had in mind, but she knew I had something in mind. And I did.

"Mom, do you remember our conversation?" I asked. "The one the other day where you told me about being on the beach with dad? How you were naked, and you showed off?"

I kept my voice down, but at the last sentence mom looked up and around her, with a nervous manner, obviously wondering if anyone could hear what I was saying. But no one could. I was speaking loud enough for her to hear me, but not loudly enough for anyone else to hear me.

I leaned forward.

"Do you remember that conversation?"

"Of course, I do," she said. "I can't forget that conversation, or what happened after it."

"Good," I said. "You told me something about yourself. That you like to show off. But you also told me dad didn't like it, and after that day you didn't do it any more when you were married." I paused again.

"O.K. You're right," she said. "I remember that. What about it?"

"After the things we've done together, mom," I said, "I can tell it's something you still want to do, but you weren't able to do it married to dad, and you haven't been able to do it until now."

She kept staring back at me, trying to maintain an impassive expression.

"Where are we going with this, Randy?" she asked me.

"Here's where we're going, mom," I said. "How about if I give you the chance to do what you wanted to do with dad?"

"What do you mean?" Mom looked nervous. She fidgeted in her chair across the table from me.

"I mean, mom, with me you can do what you wanted to do with dad," I said. "You can show off. I'll help you do that."

Mom didn't reply immediately, but she arched her brows, and the corners of her mouth twisted in a wry expression.

"How do you plan to do that?" she asked.

"Well, first, by getting you to take your panties off in a restaurant," I said, and I gave her a big smart-ass grin. "Which you've done already.

"And next, spreading your legs enough so I can take a photo with my camera."

"Randy, there are people all around us. If you do that they're going to see it." She furrowed her brow, and I thought it looked cute. She looked uncertain, but not shocked. We had done so much already that the shock threshold had moved a lot.

"OK, then," I said. "You take the photo with your phone, and text it to me."

She opened her mouth slowly as though she was forming the words to refuse, and I interrupted her.

"You can do it quickly, mom. I'll keep an eye out. No one's going to see you.

"And if they do," I continued and paused, "Then they see you. That's not so bad. No one here knows you."

Mom didn't look convinced. She stared hard at me and then turned her head in every direction to see if anyone might be looking at her. I looked too, and I didn't see anyone staring at us at that moment. Mom held up her phone. I knew she was thinking about it. But she wasn't convinced. She was in her public mode, dressed elegantly (even if she was without her underwear), and to do what I was asking her to do she would have to break out of her comfortable role.

But break it she did. Slowly, uncertainly, with lines of worry stitched across her face -- but she did it. Her gaze darted quickly back and forth, her head jerking this way and that like a bird's, so she could confirm that no one was looking at her. Then she whipped the phone under the table. I saw her legs part through the gaps in the iron table top. Her left hand pulled the skirt up a few inches, and her right dipped between her knees with her thumb on the camera button. She held the phone in place there, and then quickly brought it up to her face.

I held my phone up to my face, eagerly awaiting mom's text. I was aware of mom's thumb moving across her phone screen, but I couldn't look at it. My eyes were fixed on my own phone, waiting for the text to appear.

After what seemed like ages, the familiar ping sounded. A text. I clicked on the icon and opened it. The image on my phone screen was darker than I wished it was, the result of mom not having used a flash when she took the photo. It wasn't perfectly clear. But it was unmistakably a photograph of my hot mom's pussy under her blue skirt. I felt my cock stiffening as I looked at it.

"Satisfied?" mom asked me.

"Oh yeah," I said. "More than satisfied. You texted me a photo of your pussy, Mom. You have a very pretty pussy."

"I'll bet you tell that to all the girls," she said.

"Just the ones with pretty pussies," I said. "Yours is the prettiest I've seen."

"Not too loud, Randy," she said. "We're in public."

I used my fingers to zoom in more closely on the image of mom's vulva in the photo. The resolution was better than I would have expected. The soft skin, the delicate petal-like lips, even the hint of dew inside the depths between them -- all were on display in the photo.

"Did I take a good photo?" mom asked.

"It's great," I said.

I looked down through the lattice work of the table top and could see a lot of mom's legs exposed under the short skirt. Suddenly, though, her thighs snapped shut. I looked up from her legs to her face. Mom was looking at me, and she looked nervous and embarrassed.

"Are you suddenly getting shy?" I asked.

"I think somebody was looking up my skirt and saw me," she said.

"Isn't that what you want?" I asked.

"Randy," mom replied. "We're in public."

"You keep saying that, like it's bad," I said. "You've shown off a lot more in public before. "Why be shy now?"

"That was at the beach," she said. "And it was a long time ago."

"So, who is it? What does he look like?" I asked. I didn't turn around because I didn't want him to see me, whoever it was.

"I don't want to look back at him," mom said. "He'll notice."

I looked up and around us. Some sunlight was coming through the tree cover. Despite the shade of the trees overhead it still was bright. I had an idea.

"Pull your sunglasses out of your purse," I said to mom. "Put them on, and then describe him to me. He won't be able to see if you are looking at him with sunglasses on."

Mom paused before responding. But after a few moments she reached into her purse and drew out a pair of stylish sunglasses. She put them on.

"O.K., mom," I said, "Is he still looking at you?"

She didn't answer right away, but after what seemed like a minute of looking up, down, and sideways uncomfortably, she replied at last.

"He just glanced this way," she said. "There's someone else at his table. Looks like a girlfriend or a wife, maybe."

"So, he wants to look at you," I replied, "But he doesn't want to be so obvious that he gets caught. Is that it?"

"I guess so. It looks that way," she said. "He just looked this way again. Briefly. Yeah, he doesn't want to get caught. He's trying to look this way but he looks nervous doing it."

I thought about what I was doing. I was trying to orchestrate my mother's exposure to other people on a restaurant patio. What kind of son was I? What kind of son would do that? Shouldn't I do everything I could to shield mom's exposure of the intimate treasure under her skirt from others in public?

I knew my answer. My answer was "no." It turned me on to think about how hot my mom was. Mom had revealed herself to me; she'd revealed not just her body, but her desires and her fantasies. They were part of her hotness. I wanted to bring them out. I wanted to be the man that my father wasn't: the man that encouraged my hot mom to be hot and sexy in the way that, deep down, she wanted to be.

"Spread your legs, mom," I told her, in as firm and as authoritative a voice I could muster as a 19-year-old son.

Mom looked at me, briefly, with her mouth forming a big "O" and her eyes wide and quizzical and uncertain. I looked through the semi-open table top to see what her legs were doing, and they stayed pressed together at first. But not for long. I saw the bare knees, lying several inches beyond the hem of the blue skirt, part -- a little at first, but then more. As mom parted her pretty, bare knees, the skirt pulled back, exposing more of her firm thighs. Soon her legs were spread wide, just as I'd asked. A lot of each supple leg was visible beyond the edge of the short skirt now stretched taut. From my point of view, I couldn't see what was between mom's legs. But I could tell that someone sitting in front of her could. I wanted to look back, behind me, to see if mom's voyeur was looking at her now. But I resisted the desire.

"Is he looking?" I asked her.

Mom feigned looking at me, but I knew she was looking through her sunglasses beyond me to see if the man was looking at her.

"He is," she said. "He's glanced at me a few times."

"Can he see your pussy? Let me know if he can see your pussy," I said.

"Randy," mom said, "This is really embarrassing. I think I should cover up."

"You can't really cover up in that skirt in this position, though, mom," I said, "Can you?"

"No, I can't," she said.

"Then, hold that position," I said.

I looked through the table top, and I saw that mom held the position. She kept her legs spread wide and the skirt rode far up her thighs. Her head was inclined toward me, but I could tell that behind the dark lenses of her glasses she was looking at the man at the other table who was looking at her. She didn't move.

I gave her a moment to hold that position before speaking to her again.

"Is he looking at you?" I asked.

"Yes," she replied. "He's been sneaking glances at me. He's trying to be subtle because he's talking to the woman at his table at the same time. I can tell he doesn't want to make her suspicious."

"How do you feel about that, mom?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" she responded.

"I mean, how do you feel about a man with a date looking at you, without underwear?" I asked. "He can tell you aren't wearing panties, right?"

She didn't answer right away, but she did answer.

"He did a double-take," she said. "Yeah, he can tell. I think he saw everything."

Mom's face was turned toward me and she held her head still as she spoke. Obviously, she was trying to hold on to whatever pretense she could that she didn't know what she was doing or that she wasn't aware that the man at the other table could see her most intimate anatomy between her spread legs. But a glance through the table top confirmed that she hadn't moved her legs, and that despite whatever pretense she was trying to maintain she kept showing herself to this man, and that she knew exactly what she was doing.

I wondered for a second what I was doing. Why did I want my mom to do this? My thoughts were complicated. I wanted to see my mom's pussy. I wanted to touch and lick and play with it. I wanted to fuck her; I knew that. But I wanted something more, too: I wanted to play with her, to tease out of her something that she'd partly revealed to me but that she'd kept hidden for a long time, something buried deep that nevertheless was a big and important part of her. I wanted it to come out. I wanted to be the one to make it come out. And I wanted to be the one to witness it coming out. I wasn't sure what was going to happen when it did. But I wanted to be there, I wanted to see it, and I wanted to be part of it.

The process was underway. My sweet, elegant mom was sitting at a restaurant with her legs apart and without panties, and a man sitting thirty feet away was staring at her vagina and mom was enjoying it and I was enjoying it, too.

This isn't a normal mom-son relationship, I thought. But it was too late to bring back normal. We had nowhere to go but forward. I wanted to see where that was.

"Mom," I said.

She didn't respond at first but after a beat or two the word seemed to break her from her reverie.

"What?" she said, shaking her head.

"I think it's time to leave," I said. "It's time for our next afternoon appointment."

I saw mom's brow furrow between the dark lenses of her sunglasses.

"Appointment?" she asked. "What do you mean?"

"You'll see," I said with as little inflection as I could. "Let's go."

I left cash on the table next to the check the waitress had left several minutes earlier, and we got up. Mom closed her legs slowly, I saw, and stood up. We walked to the car, parked along the street nearby. I held the door of the car open for her as she got in. Her blue skirt rode up her thighs as she set her bottom on the passenger side seat, and for the briefest instant I glimpsed the sweet slit of her pussy between her bare legs. My gaze shifted to her face. She was looking at me. We both knew what I'd seen, and what she'd shown me.

Mom was ready for the next step, I thought.

I walked around to the driver's side, got in the car, and pulled away from the curb. I knew where we were going, but mom didn't. I hadn't told her. I wanted it to be a surprise. I wasn't sure, entirely, if she'd go along, but I thought she would, and I wanted to find out.

We drove along the city streets, away from the restaurant and the areas I thought mom probably knew best. As I drove the car I hit a few buttons to cue up a song list I'd prepared on my phone and that played over the car's speakers via Bluetooth. The song that played over the speakers was Danzig's "Devil's Plaything." It was an oldie, a lot older than I was, and I wasn't sure if mom would know it or not.

To my surprise, she did. Her face lit up after a few notes of the song.

"That's kind of old school for you, isn't it, Randy?" she asked. "That song's before your time."

"Yeah, I guess," I said. "I like oldies. Especially the hard rock ones."

"I wouldn't have guessed you even knew anything about Danzig," she said. "My best girlfriend and I saw them in concert in high school."

"Really?" I asked. "I wouldn't have thought you were the kind of girl to like them." I was surprised, actually.

"There's a lot about me you don't know," she said, with a smirk.

"I'm sure that's true, mom," I said. "I've learned a lot about you in the last few weeks. Stuff I never would have imagined. I want to know more."

She didn't say anything to that right away. I couldn't read her expression. Her eyes were shining and her lips were turned up in a slight smile.

"It's probably best if a son doesn't know everything about his mother," she said. Then she turned away from me.

"I don't know about that," I said. "I like what I've gotten to know so far." I glanced away from the road to my pretty mother. She sat straight in her seat and her legs were pressed together tightly, but her skirt rode high and exposed a lot of her supple, tanned thighs. I loved what I saw, but I wanted to see more.

"Hey mom," I said.

She turned back to me.

"What?" she said.

"Put your feet up on the car seat," I said.

"What?" she said again.

"You're still not wearing any panties," I said. "But I can't see it. I want you to show me. Put your feet up on the seat and pull up your skirt and turn this way a little and push your knees apart. I want to see your pussy."

I liked hearing the words coming out of my mouth. I sounded firm and confident, like I knew what I wanted and like I expected her to give it to me. But I liked the look on her face even more. The muscles of her face twitched. Her eyes widened and her eyebrows arched. Her lips opened as though in surprise and then closed quickly. I saw a battle of conflicting emotions in her expression at me: surprise, resistance, maybe anger, but, at last, without doubt, interest, and, maybe, surrender.

"We're in public, Randy," she said.

"That didn't stop you at the restaurant," I replied quickly. "It didn't stop you at the beach. Come on, mom. Spread your legs. Because I want to see you. Because you want to do it."

I held my gaze on hers, trying not to flinch.

She held her gaze on me, as well, and at first, she didn't move. But then she did: slowly and tentatively, at first, but then quickly. She brought her heels up until they rested on her car seat. Then with her right hand she pulled the blue skirt up her thighs, inch by inch, all the way. She shifted her body to me. And, finally, slowly, dramatically, she spread her knees apart. When she had spread them as far as she could, she was exposed to me, fully, lewdly. The sweet slit of her pussy was on display, framed by delicate lips. I thought they looked puffier than I'd seen them before, and I wondered if it was the result of her being aroused. But I couldn't be sure. I was driving and could spend only so much time looking at my mother's bare, exposed vulva.

"Good girl," I said. "I like it when you do that. I think you like it almost as much as I do."

"You do, do you?" she said. "You think you know what I like?"

"Well," I said, "You're sitting in the car with your legs spread as far apart as they can go and showing your pussy to your son, so my guess is you like it."

She didn't have anything to say to that, but she didn't move her legs, either, so I felt I had my answer. I had to struggle to keep my eyes on the road. I managed to, but not without frequent glances to my right at the sweet, pink opening between my mom's lean, firm legs.

I drove for a while in silence, and after a while mom spoke.

"Where are we going, Randy?" she asked.

"You'll see soon," I said. "We're taking another step."

"That's sounds . . . ominous," she said. "What do you mean, 'another step?' You didn't tell me anything about this when we went to lunch."

"No, I didn't," I said. "But I did ask you if you had the afternoon free, and you said 'yes.' It's only the middle of the afternoon. I'm taking you some place because I want to have fun with you. I think you'll like it. But I'm not going to tell you until we get there."

I looked sideways at mom and her eyebrows were knitted tightly. She was concerned. I thought about saying more to reassure her, but I didn't. Part of me enjoyed seeing her boundaries pushed and the worry that resulted.

I wanted to push those boundaries. I took my right hand off the wheel and set it high on mom's left thigh, probably no more than six inches from the ruddy, inviting slit between her legs. I squeezed her thigh. I felt her shiver, and I felt the muscle of her thigh twitch and contract, but she didn't move her legs. They remained open. I looked at where it lay on her leg and then I looked up at her face. She was looking at me, already, an expression of wonder and curiosity on her face.

I didn't say anything, but I move my hand an inch or two up her firm thigh toward the place between her legs, and I squeezed again.

She didn't move her legs, but after a few moments she spoke.

"Randy, that's far enough," she said.

"What's far enough, mom?" I asked.

"Your hand," she said. "Your hand is very close to my . . . you know. I think it should stop there."

"Why, mom?" I asked. "Why not let me touch you there? Let me put my finger inside you. I'll rub your clit. I can tell you're excited. You're aroused. I'll make you come as I drive."

I snuck glances away from the road to mom's face as I drove and as I talked, and I could see the impact of my words on her. She flinched, slightly, at the word "clit." I knew she wanted my hand to move up her thigh until it was between her legs. I knew she wanted my fingers pressing into the folds of her sex. But there was reluctance, too. I could see that. I tried to figure out why.

"I want to set a boundary there, Randy," she said. "I think we should stop before that happens."

"But why, mom?" I asked. I squeezed the interior of her thigh with my fingers, inches from her pussy. Her legs opened just a bit wider when I did. I glanced down and to the side and I could see everything. The thin lips were pulled back, just a bit, exposing the wet, pink flesh inside her pussy. It would take no more than a fraction of a second for me to plunge a finger inside her. I wanted to do it, so badly I could hardly stand it. But I didn't. I wouldn't do it until I knew mom wanted it. She wasn't ready. She didn't look at me. She looked ahead, at the road, maybe, or perhaps at nothing. When she spoke again her voice quavered but I could tell she was trying to muster an air of resolve.

"Because I want to," she said. "I want to stop there. I don't want you to touch me there. That's going too far. It's off limits."

My hand, still tantalizingly close to her pussy, squeezed her thigh again, hard, but it didn't stray any closer to its prize.

"O.K., Mom," I said. "I'll respect your boundaries. I won't touch you there, with my hands, or with . . . anything else." I grinned with the last phrase. "But I want something from you, in return. I want you to do what I ask. I won't ask you to do anything that crosses that boundary. But other than that, I'd like you to play along. O.K.?"

"What do you have in mind?" she asked me.

"You'll see, soon," I said. "We're almost there. I have some plans for you. I'd like you to go along. I promise I'll respect the boundaries you've set but I want you to go along with what I've got planned."

Mom's eyes were wide, and I saw the combination of uncertainty and excitement in them.

"Where are we going, Randy?" she asked. "What do you want me to do?"

"You'll see, very soon, mom," I said. I looked at the road ahead. We were in a part of the city a long way from home and from mom's workplace. I didn't want mom to be recognized when she did what I was going to ask her to do.

After driving for a while through unfamiliar streets we finally reached our destination. I pulled the car off the street into a parking lot in front of a low store front. A sign over the windows read "Secret Treasures."

"Randy, what is this place?" mom asked.

"This is our destination," I said. "I want to get some things for you. And for me." I smiled at her.

It was an adult entertainment store: a place to buy adult movies, clothing, and toys. I'd been there once before, to buy something for a girlfriend, and more recently I'd scoped out its website to see if it had what I wanted to get for mom. It did.

"Randy, what are we doing here? What are you up to?" mom asked me.

"I have some shopping to do," I said. "And I need you to help me with it."

I walked around the car to the passenger door and opened it for my mom. She started to swing her legs together out of the car when I held up my hand.

"Wait, mom," I said.

"What now, Randy?" she asked. Mom looked at me sideways, obviously curious and skeptical about what my plan was.

"Put your feet up on the seat," I said. "Then spread your knees apart, and pull your skirt back. I want to take a photo of you like that."

I was getting bolder with mom, and I wanted to keep pushing my luck. I didn't just want to fuck my mom -- although, I really did want to fuck her; I wanted to play with her, too. She kept revealing things about herself to me: not just her body, but her desires and fantasies. I wanted to keep teasing them out of her, guiding her, encouraging her to indulge them. That was why I'd brought her to the store, and it was why I wanted her to spread her legs wide while sitting in the car seat with the door open. I wanted her to get more comfortable exposing her pussy to me, even in a public place. I would need her to get more comfortable quickly for her to follow through with what I had in mind in a few minutes.

She didn't respond to my directions right away. She looked around. There was no one walking nearby that could see what she was doing. There were cars going back and forth on the street, though, and a driver in the right place at the right time who happened to look her way might see something. But it would be a fleeting glance. I looked at mom's face and guessed that she was making the same calculations about her getting caught that I was.

Slowly, she put her heels upon the car seat. She spread her knees wide. With her left hand she pulled the hem of the blue skirt back. She still wasn't wearing any panties, so her bare pussy came into view. It was utterly delectable, and, if my eyes did not deceive me, it was just little bit damp, too.

"That's great, mom," I said. "Just hold that position. Pull the skirt back just a little more. That's great. Hold still!"

I held up my phone. I didn't hurry. I was enjoying the thrill of having my mom expose herself in public, and I wanted to prolong the thrill for her as well. She looked nervous. But she did what I asked. Her hand pulled the skirt back another inch. I took the shot. Then I knelt until I was nearly at her level, and I held the phone closer to the gap between her legs. I wanted a close-up shot. I knew it would make her more nervous, too. I still didn't see any people nearby in the parking lot, but a lot of cars were going by, and if someone saw me it wouldn't be that hard for them to guess what I was doing.

"Randy!" mom said, excited. "Let's hurry up."

I could tell she was nervous, but she didn't move her legs. She still did what I had asked.

"Just a sec!" I said. "I want to get this right. There we go."

I held the phone very close, and mom's pretty pussy nearly filled the screen now. No question about it, a film of moisture coated her thin lips, which were peeled back just enough to reveal a hint of pink dampness inside. I took the photo.

"OK, mom," I said. "Thanks for being a good sport. It's time to go shopping."

Mom pressed her legs back together and pulled the skirt down and exited the car. I closed the door behind her while she stood by.

She's waiting for my next instructions, I thought. I liked how this was going.

"What kind of shopping are we doing today, son?" mom asked. Her smile twisted into a slight smirk, but her eyes shone with fear and excitement. Mom obviously was conflicted about what we were doing. But she wasn't stopping me.

"We are going to buy some things for you," I said. "And you are going to try some things on. I'll tell you as we shop. We're going to do some play-acting, 'cause I think it'll be better if people don't know we're mother and son. We don't look much alike, so I think we can pull it off. We're going to pretend you are a would-be model and I'm a photographer, and we're buying some things for a photoshoot. I'll call you 'Mona.' It sounds enough like 'mom' that if I start to slip when I talk to you I probably can recover and no one will be any wiser."

Mom's jaw was dropping as I spoke.

"Are you serious?" she said. "You're going to tell people that you're taking photos of me with sex toys?"

"Well," I said, "I don't know about 'people.' I probably will ask for help from the clerk. I don't know if anyone else will know. But if they ask, that's what I'm going to tell them."

She looked nervous, so I tried to reassure her.

"Mom, or Mona," I said. "Don't worry. We are on the other side of town from home, or from your work. I've been here before and scoped out the store. There aren't likely to be a lot of people in the story, and no one here is going to know you. They'll just know you as a hot MILF model named Mona. This is sex toy shop. People are used to kink. And they value their customers' desire to be discreet. Follow my lead, and everything will be fine.

"Besides, mom," I pressed on. "I know that there's part of you that wants this. You want to keep doing what we've been doing. We're going to. And I'm going to throw in some new things to the mix. Just follow my lead. I've got this all planned out. I'm not going to say it's going to be easy for you, 'cause it probably won't. But that's why you're going to enjoy it.

"Come on," I gestured to her. "Follow me."

I started walking to the door, and after a moment's hesitation mom followed me. So far, so good.

I pulled the door open and stepped back to let my mom enter first. I stepped in after her, and I scanned the scene in front of me.

I had been in the store once before, but I looked around to refamiliarize myself with the layout and see how many people were in the shop. It would be an exaggeration to say that the store was classy, but, for a sex toy and porn shop, it was appealing and not too cheesy. The owner obviously had spent enough money on it to make it look nice. The front of the store was a large room filled with racks and sexy clothes on display. Fetishy posters and shelves full of merchandise lined the walls. Against one wall was a large collection of sexy costumes, lingerie, and fetish wear. In the back were openings to two different rooms. Over each room was a neon sign, one of which said, "Movies & Books" and the other of which said, "Toys."

I saw four people in the store. Behind the service counter sat a woman with short, dark hair, tattoos and a nose ring, clothed in tight black and gray clothes that gave off an edgy vibe, probably 30ish. A couple, both blond and maybe a few years older than I was, were checking out something at a display stand in the middle of the room. A lone man, maybe near 40, was scanning the lingerie section.

Enough people to make this fun, but not so many to scare mom off, I thought. It was perfect.

I wanted the clothes section, first.

"Mona," I called to mom, who was staring around her with her mouth partly open, obviously trying to take it all in. She didn't respond to her fake name at first but swiveled toward me when she realized I was talking to her. I saw the clerk behind the counter look up from a book and glance at us.

"Ever been to a place like this?" I asked mom in a whisper.

"Once, a long time ago," she said in an even softer whisper. "I bought a vibrator there. It was in another city, when I was on a vacation, with your dad. The store was a lot smaller than this, though."

"This should be large enough for our purposes," I said.

"I'm dying to find out what those are," she said.

"You will," I replied. "Very soon."

We walked to one end of the store until I found what I was looking for: shelves full of fetish and cosplay outfits. Mom looked at a black bustier and crotchless panty outfit hanging from a rack next to her.

"You'd look good in that . . . Mona," I said. "But I have something else in mind."

I scooped up two articles of clothing from an adjacent shelf and handed them to her.

"Try these on," I said. Mom looked at me with an expression of disbelief.

"This is a school girl costume," she said.

Indeed, it was. Well, actually, it was a stripper's version of a school girl outfit. The skirt was microscopically short, in a Kelly green, black, and white tartan pattern, and it fastened on the side with Velcro patches that made it adjustable. The "top" was a thin white shirt with a big scoop at the neck and cropped so high that it ended just under the breasts. The short sleeves were trimmed in a pattern that matched the skirt. I liked the green because I thought it would match mom's eyes.

"There's a dressing room over there," I said, gesturing with my chin to a spot against the wall behind her.

"You want me to try this on here? In the store?" she asked me in a furious whisper. "I can't do that! This skirt is tiny!" she said as she held it up for inspection. "It won't cover me. And I'm not wearing underwear!"

"Yes, you can try it on here," I said calmly and firmly. "No one here knows you, and they're not going to know you. Not only are they not going stop you, they're going to encourage you. You'll look fantastic in this. And you'll get to show off with no cost and no downside. You can do it . . . Mona. Let's do it."

"Did you hear me?" she said. "I'm not wearing underwear, Randy."

"Then you'll just have to wear the skirt carefully," I said. "Or not. There won't be any consequences. Let's go. Come on."

My insistence seemed to pay off, because mom followed me toward the dressing booth. No one was in it. It wasn't much to look at: two painted fiberboard panels standing out from the wall and held up by flimsy metal posts. An equally flimsy curtain, now drawn back, hung down and ended about a foot or more from the floor. Inside the enclosure sat a small stool. A long, skinny mirror lay pegged to the back wall, and to the right of it at eye level two hooks stood out to hold clothes on hangers.

"Go ahead," I said, sweeping my arm toward the open booth. "I'll wait here."

Mom fixed me with a hard stare, but it softened, and she said what I had hoped she'd say.

"O.K."

She went in and drew the curtain. Or, she tried to. It seemed to catch on something at the top, and when she finally managed to uncatch it and pull it across it didn't quite draw the whole way. A slight gap showed. It wasn't much, but I could see through it well enough to catch her eye. She was looking at me.

"Go ahead . . . Mona," I said. "I'll stand right here and block anyone else from looking.

"You're going to watch me undress?" she asked.

"Would you prefer it if the guy in the lingerie section peeked through and watched you?" I asked.

"No," said mom, "but you could turn around."

"I could," I said, "but I can't think of any good reason to do that. We're past that point, aren't we?"

She couldn't really argue with that, although I could tell she wanted to. Her eyes were wide and shining and she looked flushed, and I could tell she was excited. But part of her wanted to resist, too.

But she didn't want to resist too much. She began unbuttoning the blouse.

I didn't want to look like too much of a perv, even in a sex toy shop, so I stepped back from the booth a foot and pretended I was looking at my phone. But I wasn't, really. I was watching my mom, quickly unbuttoning and removing her blouse, exposing the smooth firm skin of her shoulders and tummy. Then she unzipped the skirt from the back and stepped out of it. I looked down at the slit of her vulva coming into view and felt the familiar stiffening inside my pants. She set the blouse and skirt on the stool and reached to take the school girl top, but she stopped when I insistently whispered, "Not yet."

She looked at me, and I stared at her bra and nodded. She unhooked it from the front and set it on the seat. My mom stood naked in front of me. I couldn't see all of her through the gap in the curtain, but I could see enough that my cock grew harder.

I stepped to the side, pretending again to look at my phone as I swung around, but in reality, checking out whether anyone was looking our way. The couple appeared to be busy on the other side of the room, but the 40ish guy in the lingerie section nearby seemed to be sneaking glances toward us. I swung around and noticed the curtain moving. Mom obviously had noticed I'd stepped to the side and was trying to pull the curtain completely shut, but it wasn't cooperating, and all the movement caused the gap to widen. I discreetly looked around again and caught the guy nearby looking away. No doubt about it, he was trying to get a peek of something.

I approached the booth again and opened the curtain a little.

"How's it going?" I asked with a cheeky smile.

Mom had pulled the top over her head and was fastening the skirt on the side.

"Just give me a moment," she said, and I thought heard her voice break.

I waited.

After another minute -- it seemed like it was taking a long time -- I heard a soft "pssssst" come from inside the booth. I approached it again and pulled the curtain back enough to poke my face through.

"Yes?" I said.

Mom had finished putting the outfit on; perhaps, it would be more accurate to say that the outfit was as on as it ever would be. The top ended immediately beneath her breasts, and It obviously was sized small, because mom's breasts, which were shapely and ample but not huge, filled and stretched its thin white fabric. The top wasn't quite see-through, but the material was thin and cheap, and it put the contour of her nipples (which looked erect, to my hopeful eye) plainly on display.

The skirt was perhaps even more deliciously skimpy. It was ridiculously short. I wasn't sure how short, in inches, but it was much shorter than any miniskirt I'd seen anyone I knew wear in public, and I'd seen girls I knew wear some very short skirts. Mom had pulled the waistband as low as she could to maximize coverage below, and the result was that it hung just below her hip bone. An incredible expanse of thin, supple waist was on display. Despite having been pulled down as far as it plausibly could go, the bottom of the skirt still ended very high on her thighs, and I could tell it extended no more than a couple of inches below the bottom of her pussy. Mom's thin but sculpted legs were fully exposed, as was the yummy gap between them peeking out from the under the skirt.

My mouth watered, and I wanted to drool. But I had an act to put on so I held back and gulped instead.

"Go ahead and turn around," I said.

I'm not sure if mom was more relaxed, but she seemed like she was more cooperative than before. She turned around, slowly, and showed me her back side. The skirt covered even less in back. If she bent over even slightly the cheeks of her perky ass would start revealing themselves.

I had no idea if mom had ever worn anything like this in her life. Probably not, I thought, if her reaction was any guide.

I pulled the curtain back all the way and stepped back. Mom's mouth opened and eyes widened; she obviously hadn't expected me to expose her to the store like that.

Oh, mom, I thought. If you only knew. We're just getting started.

I looked in the mirror on the wall behind her and saw the reflection of the lingerie shopper looking our way, and I think his eyes were even wider than mom's.

"Randy, what are you doing?" mom asked me.

"I need to see you in the light," I said, winging it. "You know, so I know how it's going to look for the camera in the shoot."

"Do you need any help?" said a female voice behind me.

It was the clerk. She'd emerged from behind the front counter, and now she was standing next to me with her emo aura and nose ring, eyes darting back and forth between me and mom.

"Well, maybe you can," I said, and I stepped to the side a foot to let her see mom better. Mom still stood inside the booth and didn't move.

"She's trying on an outfit, and we're trying to make sure it fits right," I said. I tried to sound serious, and professional. I had to bring my sales skills to the task to pull this off.

"Is this for a Halloween party?" the clerk asked, with a tone that suggested that if it was, she wanted to know where the party was.

"No, no," I replied. "It's for a photoshoot."

I leaned closer to her.

"I'm starting a website, and Mona is my first model."

The clerk's eyes went wide, and she said "Oh!"

I glanced at mom, and her eyes went wide too. But she didn't say anything. She was holding very still, and I guessed it was because she knew that it wouldn't take much movement to expose herself under the tiny skirt.

I reached out my hand to the clerk.

"I'm Randy, by the way," I said. She shook my hand.

"I'm Tracy," she said.

"So, what do you think?" I asked Tracy.

"If you're going for a sexy look, it's really sexy," she said. "She's tall, which makes the skirt look shorter. It's not going to cover much. But I guess that's the idea?" She turned from mom to me with a smile.

"That is the idea. We're going to start with the outfit, in a variety of poses, and then she'll take it off."

"Well, that sounds hot," Tracy said. "The school girl outfit looks great on her. But you need a few things to finish it. I can find them for you."

"That would be great!" I said.

"OK, wait here," she said.

I turned back to mom. She was standing in the same place, but her expression had changed. Where, before, she'd looked nervous, she looked less so now. She had a slight smirk on her face and I sensed her confidence was growing. She stepped away from the booth and toward me and leaned close.

"This is what you want?" she asked. "You want to show me off in this store?"

"I do, mom," I said. "Nothing bad will happen. No one you or I know will find out anything. The clerk seems cool."

"O.K.," she said. "I'm game. But I hope you're prepared. Once you let the genie out of the bottle you might not be able to put her back. Just so you know. And one other thing -- I want to keep to our boundaries. You know what they are."

"I know," I said. "I will." Mom's response threw me. I wasn't so sure who was in control any more.

Tracy returned, carrying a few items.

"I've got some things to complete the look," she said. "First, I've got some hair ties that match the skirt, so you can have pigtails on either side. Then I've got some thigh high white stockings. And then, to complete the look I've got some shoes. You look like a size seven, am I right?"

"You are," said mom.

"All right!" said Tracy. "Let's try these on. Let's step over here -- there's a chair next to the shoes."

We followed Tracy to the chair. Mom sat down, holding her legs together as she did so. Still, the skirt rose up, until it was obvious that her most intimate parts were just barely covered under the skirt as she sat. Tracy walked around behind mom and began bunching her hair to put the ties on. The ties sported a green tartan pattern just like the tiny skirt. Tracy put them on perfectly.

"Wow," said Tracy. "That's a great look on you. Very saucy. Now, before I put the stockings on, you have to agree to buy them. We don't let customers put them on before buying them."

"That's fine," I said. "I can hand you the cash now if you want."

"Not necessary," Tracy said. "As long as you agree to buy them."

Tracy walked around to mom's front and knelt in front of her. She looked up at mom's face. I saw eagerness in her eyes and moisture on her lips.

"Do you want me to help you get those on?" she said.

My mom looked down at Tracy's face and held her gaze. "Sure," she said slowly.

Mom stretched her legs out toward Tracy, who ripped the plastic wrapping off the stockings -- very quickly, I thought. She pulled one of them out and set the other to the side.

I looked around the room. The lingerie guy stood closer than before, and he was positioned perfectly to look past Tracy's side and up mom's short skirt. He was fiddling with something flimsy on a floor rack, trying hard not to like he was ogling my mom. But I could tell he was. This was going to get interesting.

"Lift your leg," Tracy said to mom.

Mom lifted her right leg off the floor and pointed her toe toward Tracy. Her legs parted when she did so -- not a lot, but it wouldn't take a lot to reveal everything. I saw muscles contracting in mom's smooth calf when she lifted it off the floor. Tracy took the stocking and placed it at mom's toes, and then she began drawing it up mom's foot, and her ankle, and her calf, with what seemed like undue deliberation. Her face was very attentive, and she seemed excited.

And then Tracy paused and let out an almost imperceptible gasp of air. I could see why, at once. She wasn't looking at the stocking, or at mom's leg. She was looking past it, to the uncovered spot between mom's legs. Mom had parted her legs to let Tracy pull the stocking on, and now Tracy could see that mom wore no panties. She could see her pussy. Mom looked steadily at Tracy's face, without so much as changing her expression. Tracy raised her eyes from under mom's skirt to mom's eyes, and then she looked up at me. I wanted to laugh, but I kept an even expression and cocked my chin a half inch forward to indicate she should keep going.

She did, pushing the stocking up past mom's knee, and, I thought, pushing against mom's knee with enough pressure to part her legs more. Mom didn't resist. She just sat there, looking crazy sexy in the skimpy outfit and her pigtails, legs drawing apart and skirt riding up now almost as far as it could go.

I looked around and the lingerie guy was closer still, and he was openly staring at mom with his mouth open. He didn't even see me looking at him.

"There, that one's done," Tracy said. You can put that leg down and I'll put the stocking on the other one."

Mom set her foot down, but she didn't move her leg back to its previous position against the other one. She kept it just to the side, enough to afford Tracy -- and me, now -- a view of what lay under the skirt. The lower part of mom's pussy winked into my view. What little I could see looked full and lippy.

Tracy started moving the next stocking up.

"That's going to be some photoshoot," she said.

"I'm looking forward to it," Mom said with a smile.

When Tracy was done, after pulling the filmy white stocking up mom's leg even more slowly than she did the last one, she said "Time for the shoes. I think you'll like them."

The shoes were a stripper's fantasy version of schoolgirl shoes: shiny black patent leather (fake, I was sure), rounded, platform heel in the front, and a ridiculously long skinny heel in the back. Tracy took each of mom's feet in her hands in turn and almost seemed to caress them as she buckled each foot into a shoe.

The clerk obviously was turned on by my hot mom. She wasn't the only one. Lingerie guy couldn't take his eyes off her, and neither could I. My cock was hard and pressing uncomfortably against the front of my pants.

"We're done!" Tracy exclaimed. "Let's go look in the mirror."

As Tracy stood up mom looked at me and winked. She smiled and I could tell she was fully immersed in the game. I wasn't quite sure who was writing the rules, anymore, but I knew what I wanted to do with her next.

Mom followed Tracy to a full-length mirror against the wall. The brief skirt flapped behind her, and with each flap I caught a glimpse of her butt.

I held my phone up to take some photos. Mom saw me through the mirror on the wall, and she pushed her butt out in my direction. The skirt rode up and more of her cheeks came into view. I snapped away while the discomfort in my pants grew.

"The outfit looks great on her, don't you think?" Tracy asked me.

"I do," I said. "It's going to look just right for the shoot we're going to do. But we need some more things. We need some toys."

I let that statement drop on mom and on the clerk.

"Do you think you can help us with that?" I asked Tracy.

"Uh, sure," she said, stammering over the words. "Let's go to the toy room."

Tracy led the way to the toy room, and mom and I followed right behind.

The toy room was much smaller than the main room of the store. It was rectangular and narrow and its walls were packed almost to the ceiling with shelves, featuring sex toys of every imaginable type.

Tracy, and then mom, entered the room and then paused, and they turned back toward me. They didn't know what I had in mind. But I had an idea. I scanned the shelves along the walls, stuffed full of colorfully packaged sex toys of every kind. Brightly printed signs showed the way they were organized into sections: "BDSM", "Dildos", "Vibrators", "Anal Pleasure", and others.

I walked toward the vibrator section. I looked over my shoulder and mom raised her eyebrow at me. I addressed Tracy.

"Tracy," I said, "Could you give me a hand? I'm looking for something and I could use some advice."

"What do you need?" she asked.

"A part of Mona's shoot will include a scene with a vibrator," I said, "And I'm trying to figure out what the right one is."

I could tell Tracy was imagining the shoot. She looked distracted and her eyes looked unfocused.

"So," I continued, "I want to get something that's reliable, and will make her come. And something that looks good. Any ideas?"

I looked past Tracy, and mom was giving me a look. I think she was mildly shocked at what I was saying to the store clerk, but there was a twinkle in her eye and her mouth turned up in a smile on one side, and I sensed she was game for the challenge. I was determined to find out.

Tracy appeared to refocus on the task at hand. She reached toward a box on the shelf and pulled it off. She held it in front of me. Beneath the see-through plastic front cover lay the biggest vibrator I'd ever seen. It had two prongs, and buttons for multiple settings, I guessed. It was an impressive monster of a sex toy, but it wasn't what I was looking for.

"I think I want something a little slimmer," I said. "I don't want the sex toy to be so big it obscures Mona. Do you have something that's smaller with more elegant lines but still effective?"

Tracy seemed to think a moment; then, she went back to the shelf, put the box back, and pulled another box down.

I heard a noise behind me. I turned and saw the lingerie guy wander into the toy room, tentatively. He looked quickly away from us and toward the shelves, but I had no doubt he wanted to see whatever mom happened to do. I gave him a friendly smile to let him know it was O.K. to watch the fun.

I turned back to Tracy and saw the package she held front of me. It contained a long, slender, pink vibrator. Its profile was simple and skinny; its surface was unadorned. Two-thirds of the way up its length, it bent at an angle, and it bulged at its tip.

"This one is powerful, and it has a variety of settings, but it's not bulky," said Tracy. "It might be what you are looking for."

"It looks just right to me," I said. "We'll have to give it a try to make sure. Is that O.K.?"

"You mean here?" Tracy said. Her eyes bugged wide. "Uh . . . I can't let you use it without buying it."

I fished my wallet out of my back pocket.

"No problem," I said. "I'll buy it. I've got cash the money to cover it. But I'd like to try it out on my model before I leave. Can I do that?"

Her eyes grew even wider than before, and her mouth dropped open.

"Well . . . ." The clerk stammered, struggling to get the words out. "We're not supposed to do that. The owner tells us we're not supposed to let stuff like that go on."

"Oh, I understand," I said, trying to put on my most persuasive voice. "It's a classy operation. You don't want to get in trouble. But it does seem kind of quiet today, and we can just try it here in this back room. It won't bother anybody. And I thought you could help me with the toy while I took some photos." I held up my phone.

Tracy's eyes, uncertain and fearful, lit up when she heard that. She looked over at mom, running her eyes down mom's body until they stopped at the hem of the tiny skirt where it lay over her immaculate, lean thighs. I saw the tip of her tongue run along her lips. Mom stayed quiet, looking at me the whole time. I couldn't read her expression, but she hadn't said no or run out of the store, so I decided to press on.

"Here's the cash," I said, holding up the money. "I'll buy it regardless. OK?"

Tracy hesitated, but she nodded her head slightly. "OK, I guess. But let's make it quick. I should get back to the front counter."

"We'll do that," I said with a grin as I tore into the package containing the vibrator. In a few seconds I had it out of the package. "I think we're going to need a battery," I said.

"I'll grab it," Tracy said, scurrying out of the room.

It was just mom and me, plus the lingerie guy at the other end of the small room pretending he was looking at something on the shelf when we all knew he was trying to listen in and hoping to see something.

Mom drew close to me and talked softly so he couldn't hear.

"So, Mr. photographer," she said, "is this what you want? Are you sure?"

"I am . . . Mona. We have to try out the goods before our . . . shoot."

"Well you're going to get a good show, Randy. I hope you can handle it."

Tracy returned with two batteries in hand. She plopped them into the vibrator handle and then looked up at me.

"Now what?" she asked.

"Now we start," I said. "Mona, you get on the floor, on your hands and knees."

"The floor?" mom asked.

"It looks clean," I said. "It's clean, isn't' it?"

"We clean it every day," Tracy said, ready and eager to get started.

"it's clean," I said to mom. "Let's do it."

"Well, here goes," mom said.

Mom turned away from Tracy and me, slowly, and then she crouched down. She put her hands on the floor in front of her, and got on all fours. As her body moved forward, away from us, the skirt rode up her butt, exposing more skin. Mom was fully into the game, and she wasn't waiting for me to give orders. She pressed her chest toward the floor and aimed her ass toward the ceiling, and she moved her knees, now resting on the floor, farther apart. Now everything was completely exposed: her pussy, lips parted and glistening, and her sweet, puckered asshole. Her ass swayed from side to side, almost imperceptibly. In the pose she'd taken, mom looked feline and feral.

I heard a not-quite-stifled gasp behind me and turned and saw the lingerie shopper draw closer. I gestured with a turn of my head to indicate it was fine for him to look.

"OK, Tracy," I said. "You do the test with the vibrator and I'll take some photos with my phone to see how it looks."

Tracy needed no more prompting. She flipped the switch on and the vibrator emitted a low buzz. She moved the tip of the vibrator forward and touched it to the bare skin to the side of mom's clit. Mom flinched, but then moved her ass back in place. She was ready for it, I could tell. The slender vibrator contacted the skin between mom's legs once again.

Tracy moved the tip of the vibrator away from mom's pussy and out toward the right cheek of her butt. She barely pressed it against mom's skin as she traced wide circles over one ass cheek and then the other. Mom's reaction, at first, was to flinch, but that changed, and soon I could see her butt rock with the vibrator as it moved one way and then another. After another minute, Tracy, who seemed to know what she was doing, moved the vibrator back to mom's clit. She held it against it lightly at first, and then with more pressure. The pink nub of flesh shook at the touch of the vibrator, and mom's whole body shuddered and she let out a moan.

No longer content to watch the vibrator tip doing its work against mom's pert clit, Tracy pushed it down and in. It slipped past mom's lips and into her depths without any obvious resistance. Mom let out a gasp and her body jerked forward involuntarily. I thought I saw wetness between her legs that I hadn't seen there even two minutes ago.

Suddenly, I heard a voice at the door of the room.

"Holy shit!" a male voice exclaimed. It was the male half of the couple from the front of the store. He stood just inside the entry to the room and his jaw had dropped open. His girlfriend stood next to him and her mouth was agog as well.

"Come on in,' I said. "We're testing this vibrator. If it works out I'm going to use it in a photoshoot with Mona here in the next week."

They stepped into the room and circled behind mom. Now, a small crowd of five people stared down at mom's naked ass with a slender pink vibrator tickling the side of her clitoris. I decided to give everyone a better view and I flipped the skirt back so the bottom hem now was on her back. Mom was even more exposed, and she responded by spreading her knees on the floor farther apart and pointing her ass even more in line with the ceiling. Mom let out another low moan as Tracy guided the tip of the vibrator into the furrow between her lips. Tracy pressed it up and down against mom and then used the pressure to push back mom's lips until they were spread back and opened like the pink wings of a delicate butterfly. I looked up at the faces around me. Everyone was transfixed by the site of my mom on the floor -- Tracy, most of all, I think. Her attention never wavered from mom's open pussy.

Mom shifted her weight onto one hand, and with the other she reached between her legs. Thin, elegant fingers peeled back the lips of her pussy farther, giving all of us an even better view.

"Can I take a photo?" said the single man, who took his phone out of his pocket.

Mom spoke up between moans and short breaths: "No photos! Just the photographer."

I looked at the man, who looked disappointed.

"I'll tell you what," I said. "You can take a photo of her ass from this angle, but no photos of her face. Mona doesn't want to show her face in any photos until the photoshoot we're going to do. Can you agree to that?"

"Sure," the guy said. He scooted in closer, until he was just two feet from where the vibrator was dancing and gliding over and into mom's wet pussy. He pulled his phone out and held it close to mom's ass and snapped several photos. Then he pulled the phone back and looked at it, evidently scanning the photos he had just taken. "Awesome," he said quietly.

Meanwhile, the vibrator was having its effect on mom. Her whole body was undulating to the rhythm of the slender wand, which Tracy was mashing and sliding on and into mom's increasingly wet pussy. I barely could recognize her. She didn't look like my mom anymore. Dressed only in the school girl outfit, and moving the way she did, she looked like a stripper on a stage, performing for the crowd. And she was performing well.

Tracy spoke up.

"Mona, flip over, on your back," she said.

Mom didn't respond at first, just kept rocking and swaying her ass and her body in sinuous motions, but then, slowly, she rotated her whole body around. She put her butt on the ground to the side, and shifted her weight onto it. The she straightened and lifted her left leg off the ground and held it out straight to the side, and then held it aloft. pointed at the ceiling. Finally, she rotated onto her back, and she brought her knees up to her chest and held both of her feet in the air. She used one hand to pull the skirt up more so her audience could see everything. Her eyes were shining and her mouth was open.

My god, I thought, she loves this. I couldn't believe I was looking at my mom displaying herself the way she was. Only an hour earlier we had been having lunch at an upscale restaurant, and now my mom was on her back on the floor of a porn shop, legs high in the air and showing off her naked body to a crowd like a stripper. A felt a twinge of something -- guilt, uneasiness, something -- about my role in getting mom to this point. I wasn't too worried about the people around her. They seemed harmless, and they didn't know her, and so far, no one had tried to take a photo of her face that could be used to compromise her. But still, she was in as revealing and vulnerable a position as she could be. Anything could happen. I felt responsible for her. But, I had to admit, I was enjoying it too. I loved what she was doing as much as she did.

Tracy pressed the vibrator forward again, and now she begun fucking mom with it. She pressed a switch, and the buzz grew louder with the higher setting. Tracy pulled it out of mom and pushed it right over mom's clit, and mom squealed. Mom's pussy responded as well. It was wide open for everyone to see, pink and peeled back and slick with her juices. I could see it was getting visibly wetter. Mom's body bucked against the touch of the vibrator; the vibration level obviously was near the maximum of what mom could stand. Tracy then began moving the vibrator in circles around mom's clit. She moved in even closer. She was enjoying it as much as mom and I were, and she was focused utterly on her task.

Mom's body suddenly shuddered. She threw her head back and let out a squeal that was almost a scream. Then it happened. Her legs splayed apart even more than before, and her ass lifted off the floor, and then from the depths of her pussy a geyser erupted. Wetness pulsed from her pink and spread-open flesh. It spurted forward and fanned out into a thick spray of clear liquid. It hit Tracy's surprised face in short, sharp bursts.

My God, I thought. Mom squirted, and she squirted on the store clerk. Tracy's face was splattered with mom's wetness, and it dripped off her chin onto her shirt. Her mouth hung open in plain astonishment.

Mom looked up at Tracy in equal astonishment from between her spread, bare legs. Her face betrayed shock and distress.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't know that was coming. I had no idea I was going to do that."

"No," Tracy replied, her chest heaving. "Don't apologize. That was awesome. I've never seen anything like that. I need to get a towel, though. I'll be right back."

Tracy clicked the vibrator off and handed it to me. She stood up, drenched and dripping, and hustled out of the room.

Mom still lay on her back, with her knees still far apart and shaking from her orgasm, and her audience standing mesmerized in a half circle in front of her. I was kneeling near her, with the now-quiet vibrator in one hand and my phone in the other. But I was too distracted to take any photos. The lingerie guy stood with his eyes zeroed in on mom's gaping pussy. He didn't say anything. The young couple were staring at mom, too. The girl nudged her boyfriend and pointed to the vibrator in my hand.

"I want one of those," she said.

Mom seemed to be waiting for a cue from me, so I stood up and offered her my hand. It was time to end the show. Or, at least, to move on to another scene. Mom took my hand and stood up slowly. Her legs wobbled. She drew her face close to mine.

"I can't believe that just happened," she said.

"I can't either," I said. "Look out. It's wet down there," I said, pointing to the floor that was slick with the results of mom's orgasm. I took her elbow and escorted her a few feet to the side so she wouldn't slip.

Tracy came back with a big wad of paper towels. She was toweling off her face as she entered the room. Then she dropped to her knees and began soaking up the mess on the floor.

"Time to move on," I said softly to mom. "Why don't you get your clothes in the changing room. I'm going to pay for the stuff I'm buying."

"Good idea," she said. "I think it's time to get out of this outfit."

"No, don't change," I said. "I want you to stay in that outfit when we leave."

"Randy . . .." mom said.

"Just do as a I say . . . Mona."

She looked skeptically at me but didn't argue. Then she walked out of the room. Everybody in the room stared at her butt in the tiny skirt swishing behind her as she exited. I roused myself and walked quickly to the shelves in the room to take some things I wanted to buy -- things I thought I would use later. I worked quickly, gathering them under my arm and then walking to the clerk's counter at the front of the store. Mom was gathering her things in the dressing room. Tracy rang up the items I bought, and I handed her the cash to pay for them. A few wet spots remained on her shirt. She bagged the items.

"Thanks for your help," I said.

"Thank you," she said. "Come back any time."

I turned from the counter and mom was there, still in her school girl outfit and with her other clothes in her arm.

"Let's go," I said.

I walked to the front door and mom followed me, but when we got there she hesitated.

"Randy, I can't go out in public like this," she said.

"Yes, you can," I said. "It's not far to the car."

After hesitating, mom walked out the door in the skimpy school girl outfit. I followed her. She walked quickly toward the car. I had a remote-control key, but I didn't open the car doors right away. I wanted to see my sexy, pretty mom exposed in the tiny school girl outfit in the parking lot. When she reached the passenger side of the car she pulled at the door handle, but it didn't give. She looked up at me.

"Randy," she said, "Open the door."

I didn't do so until I reached the passenger side door behind her, so I could open it for her. As I did so, I heard the loud, prolonged honk of a car horn and the scream of a male voice coming from a car hurrying past. Mom obviously was getting some attention from the traffic nearby. I decided it was time to get her out of there.

I held the car door open. Mom got in. The skirt was so short that she couldn't help exposing everything as she got in, and I enjoyed the view.

A minute later I was driving down the street away from the store and toward our home.

"Mom," I said, "Put your feet up on the seat and spread your legs open. Hold that position until we get home."

She looked at me in response but didn't say anything. Then she did as I asked, and her legs were splayed open. It was hard to concentrate on driving with mom's pussy on display. I drove carefully along the streets, on the way back to our home.

"How did you like our visit to the store?" I asked her. She didn't answer right away.

"I'm not sure what to say," she said. "I've never done anything like that. I can't believe I did that. I can't believe I did that in front of my son."

"But you didn't answer my question," I said. "My question is, did you LIKE it? I don't care whether you can't believe it. I want to know if you enjoyed it."

"Randy, I showed my you-know-what to five people on the floor of a porn shop. One of those people was my son. I came. I squirted. I'm still trying to get used to the fact that it actually happened." She looked ahead, out the windshield. "But yes. I enjoyed it. It turned me on."

"Are you still turned on, mom?" I asked her.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, I am."

"Good," I said. "Then I want you to stay that way. Stroke your pussy. Rub your clit. But don't come. I don't want you to come until we get home."

Mom shifted in her seat, giving me a better view of her pussy. Then she put a hand between her legs and touched herself. The tips of her fingers stayed on and near her clit, as we drove through the city on our way home. She put her head back against the seat. She moaned and she sighed. But she didn't come. She kept herself under control, aroused but just shy of reaching orgasm. It was satisfying to know that mom was doing what I asked her to do.

After half an hour of driving, I turned onto our street. Mom never changed her position, or stopped what she was doing. She kept her pussy exposed in the tiny skirt as I drove through our neighborhood. I imagined what our neighbors would think if they knew what mom was doing and how exposed she was.

It would depend on which neighbor it was, I thought. If it was Mr. Daniels, our old neighbor next door, I was sure he'd beat his old cock until he came while thinking about my mom. But if it was wife . . . she'd be scandalized, and she wouldn't stop talking about it until every other neighbor knew what she knew.

At last, we reached our house, and I pulled into the driveway. I parked in front of the garage.

"Randy," mom said, "Can you park in the garage? I can't let our neighbors see me like this."

"Then you're going to have to move fast, mom," I said. "I'm parking here. You're going to have to get out of the car in that outfit and walk to the door."

"Randy!" she shouted at me. "They might see me! It's one thing if it's strangers who don't know me. It's another if it's people who know me. I can't do that."

"It's a risk you're going to have to take, mom," I said. "Look around. There's nobody on the street. If you get out quickly, probably no one will see you. But you have to take the chance. You know it turns you on, mom. I know you. You like the idea of people seeing you like this. They probably won't. But there's that risk."

I opened my car door and stepped out.

"I'm going to go to the front door and open it. Follow me. Move quickly if you don't want anyone to see you."

Before she could say anything, I shut the car door and I walked to the house. I opened the door. I saw mom in the passenger seat of the car in the driveway, not moving. I gestured toward the door. Finally, mom opened her car door. She got out and skittered in quick, short steps to the door. I guessed she thought that with short steps she'd be less likely to expose herself in the short skirt. It was the first time I'd seen her in full sunlight in the school girl outfit. The sun exposed the thinness of the white fabric of the top. Her nipples were on view. Her legs were impossibly long and lean under the narrow swath of her tartan skirt. She must have been nervous about the possibility of a neighbor seeing her, but I looked both ways down the street and didn't see anyone. I opened the front door for her and she hurried inside. I closed the door behind us. I was alone with my hot, scantily-clad mom for the first time that day.

"You were awesome, mom," I said.

"Thanks, Randy," she said. "I guess. I can't believe that just happened. I can't believe what you asked me to do at that store."

"Yeah, it was weird," I said. "But you did it. You were incredible."

"Well, thanks again," she said. "So, what now?" Mom stood there, inside the front door, in the entry way. Her tits showed through the thin fabric of her white top and the tiny skirt covered her pussy by no more than half an inch.

"I'm glad you asked, mom," I said. "I've got something for you. I picked it up at the store while you were getting your clothes. Wait here." I held up my hand and spoke to her in the bossiest tone I could manage without making her laugh.

Mom waited, looking at me. I ran with the store bag to the kitchen and pulled out a clear, plastic-wrapped package. Inside was a dildo, flesh-colored, eight inches long, with a suction cup on the bottom. I tore the wrapping away from it. I turned on the faucet and ran it under warm water, making sure to wet the bottom. I ran back to the entryway, where mom waited for me in the same position.

"You won't let me fuck you mom," I said, "So I want you to fuck something else." I held the dildo in front of her face, and the tip wiggled back and forth. I knelt and slapped the suction bottom down hard on the floor with a loud smack.

"Fuck that, mom," I said. "Fuck it right now. Fuck it for me, in front of me."

Mom didn't do anything right away. She looked, wide-eyed, at the big dildo fastened to the floor in front of her. Then she looked up at me. Her eyes searched mine. Her eyes betrayed so many feelings: desire, uncertainty, fear. Raw, animal need. I nodded to her, and looked down at the dildo in front of her. I held my phone up to let her know I was going to photograph whatever she did. I saw her uncertainty melt and give way to something else. Her jaw clenched, and her eyes focused on mine. I saw her hands go to her skirt, to the side of her hip. She opened it and the Velcro made a ripping sound as the sides of the skirt parted. It fell past her hips and down her legs to the floor, and suddenly mom was nude below her waist. Her pussy was on display to me again. Then she stepped forward, directly over the dildo. She looked down at it again. She squatted over it, down, down, all the way until the tip of the erect rubber dildo was no more than an inch from the opening between her legs. She perched right over it and spread her legs back, wider, wider, all the way until they were as far back as they would go. She pushed her pelvis forward, until the tip of the dildo contacted her clit. She rocked up and down, and back and forth, the dildo never losing touch with the raw, pink folds of skin between her legs.

Mom still wore the ridiculously high heels she'd put on at the store, and I marveled at her ability to balance on them while squatting over the dildo. She put her hands in the air. She moved up and down, her clit moving over and against the dildo. I saw it move in and out of my view. Then she reached down and grabbed hold of it, and she pressed it against the folds of her sex. Her pussy was wet; I could see that from the entry way light reflecting off it. She was lubricating the dildo with the wetness from her pussy.

I scarcely noticed as my hand went to my cock and squeezed it. I began stroking myself through my pants. The sight of my mom had made me instantly hard, and my cock pushed uncomfortably against the cloth of my pants, straining to escape.

The head of the big dildo pushed against the lips of mom's pussy, spreading them back as she rocked up and down. She paused on each upstroke of her body, and when she moved down the dildo would slide up and almost inside her. Each time she moved down the head of the dildo pushed a little more deeply inside her, until I thought for certain it would push, finally, inside her. But each time it just missed. I was mesmerized. I saw the head of it getting slicker and slicker with her wetness. Without slowing her rocking against the dildo, she pulled the tiny top up and over her boobs and her shoulders with a dramatic sweep of her arms. She tossed the little, bunched-up piece of white fabric to the side. Now mom was fully naked, save for her schoolgirl stripper heels, thigh high white stockings, and twin green tartan hair ties. She bought her hands up to her breasts, cupping them and pinching her nipples as she held her gaze on me.

She kept rocking that way for another minute while the tent in my pants grew bigger. God, I couldn't stand it.

"Take it out," she said in a husky voice.

That sounded like good advice to me, so I pulled the zipper down and whipped my hard cock out. I stepped closer to her. I stroked myself as she undulated against the fake cock on the floor. I wanted to see it inside her, stretching her. I couldn't stand the wait. Apparently, mom couldn't stand it either, because she reached down and held it and in one swift descent impaled her body on the pale rubber shaft. She moved up and down on it several times, each time getting lower on the downstroke. Since she was perched on her shoes she couldn't quite take her body all the way down, but she took at least five inches of it in her. Now she was bouncing up and down on it, faster and faster. She began squealing faintly each time it pushed into her.

She shifted her position. Without lifting off the cock entirely, she brought her knees to the floor. She raised her lithe body off the dildo, until only the uppermost tip of it was still inside her. Fluid was running down it, and the entire area between mom's legs was slick with her juice. Then with a quick downward thrust mom took the whole thing inside her. Her pussy pushed against its thick base and I could see a dangling, wet lip touch the floor. Mom moaned and threw her head back. She put her hands on the floor behind her and leaned her body back, back until I thought she couldn't bend her torso any further. Her blond pigtails bounced in the air with every stroke. She was completely immersed in the pleasure the big cock was giving her.

She's going to come again, I thought. And I was right. I saw her body writhe up and down and around in an accelerating loop of raw, animal joy. As she pressed her body down on the big dildo, filling herself, she shuddered violently and spurts of fluid sprayed from her and onto the ground. But mom didn't stop. She kept going. She looked at me and with a finger gestured to me to come closer to her. I didn't need any persuading, so I did.

When I came close, mom reached out and grabbed my cock in her hands for the first time. She used both her hands fully to grip and envelope the length of my cock. All the while she kept rocking up and down and back and forth on the floor dildo, despite her just having come. I was amazed at her stamina. She pulled a hand away from my cock, opened her mouth, and spit hard into her hand. Then she grabbed me again, and, her hand lubricated, she began stroking me faster and harder.

I moaned with pleasure. I had never felt anything so magical in my life. As mom stroked me, my cock was no more than a few inches from her face. Her eyes darted back and forth between the head of my shaft and my face. She looked at me with an expression of sheer lust, her eyes wide and her mouth opened even wider. Her tongue hung out, slightly, and for a moment I thought she might touch it to my cock. But she didn't put her tongue any closer to me.

She did, however, hold her face just inches away, and the tip of my cock was pointed directly at her open mouth. The thought of spurting my cum into my mom's open mouth drove me wild. I thrust forward with my hips, pulled back, and thrust forward again. Over and over.

Amid heavy breathing mom started to talk to me. "That's right, baby," she said. "Give mommy your cock. Come for mommy. Splash my face with it."

Mom's talk drove me wilder still, and I felt my cock growing even harder as I arched my back and closed my eyes. When I opened them a little later I saw mom, her naked body framed in light streaming through windows over the doorway. She looked like an angel; a slutty, lusty angel, sure, but an angel, still. Her body twisted on top of the thick floor dildo as she grabbed and stroked me, harder and harder. My hot mom was a vision of pure sexual energy.

I couldn't hold back. I knew it. It was coming. My cock stiffened and my body shook. From deep inside me I felt the welling of the need for release and satisfaction. Something inside me contracted, shaking me all over, and the gusher of cum blew. I looked down in time to catch the first thick ropes of cum spurting from my cock. Mom obviously knew it was coming because she gripped my cock firmly and pointed it at her face. My cum splashed over her skin, and she twirled my erupting cock around so the cum would coat as much of her face as possible. I couldn't stop. Cum spurted from me, and mom pulled me and pointed me at her, and my cum spurted again. I moaned; I couldn't help it. I had no control over what was coming out of my cock or my mouth.

"Onh, onh, onh," I said. "Mom."

I closed my eyes briefly again as the reservoir of cum inside me emptied onto mom's pretty face. Before the last spurts left me, I opened my eyes to see what my cum had done to her.

My mom's beautiful face was frosted in a thick, creamy layer of my cum. It lay over her forehead, her cheeks, her chin. It dribbled off her nose. Irregular patches of it were caught in the blond strands of her hair. A gloopy blob of it perched on her upper lip, and with a quick flick of her tongue mom lapped it up and it was gone.

My legs were shaking. I saw mom looking at my body as it shook, and then I saw her body shudder again, as well. I looked toward the floor in time to see more fluid flowing from her cunt, over the latex cock and on to the floor. She let out a high-pitched gasp. I knew she had come yet again.

Neither one of us said anything for a minute as our shaking and shuddering subsided. Mom stopped rocking over the dildo and she stopped stroking my cock. But she didn't let go of it. She looked at the head, inches away from her cum-splattered face. Then her eyes shifted and she looked up, toward me. She didn't say anything right away, but her mouth opened and I could tell she was trying to muster the ability to say something as soon as her body would let her.

"So, Randy," Mom said to me finally, haltingly, as my cum dribbled down and off her face, "Do I look slutty to you, now?"

I reached out two fingers to her cheek, scooped up a big dollop of my cum, and then put my fingers to her lips. She sucked the jism off my fingers with a quick, noisy slurp, never taking her green eyes off mine.

"You sure do, mom," I said. "And I wouldn't have you any other way."