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Part 4: A Memorable Weekend.
I was wondering what excuse I could give my girlfriend to enable me to spend both a Saturday and Sunday with mum, but as it happened I didn’t have to. Because early the following week, my girlfriend announced that she had been invited away for the weekend to an old school friend’s reunion. She said I could come along if I wanted, but didn’t think I would enjoy it very much because I wouldn’t know anybody. I pretended to consider it, then said with mock reluctance that maybe she was right.
Inwardly, of course, I was thrilled, as it opened up the possibility of seeing mum for the two days. So I phoned mum on the Tuesday evening to say that I could come over and stay the coming weekend if that was convenient. I must say I was a little bit nervous about actually going ahead and proposing this, and about how mum would react. But I need not have worried, mum was delighted at the prospect. As she was working on the Saturday morning, I said I would call round about 3 o’clock.
Of course, I couldn’t be sure what the sleeping arrangements were going to be, but if mum was serious about wanting me to share her bed, now would be her opportunity. I was in a lather of nervous anticipation about it all week. There was by now no denying that I found my mother sexually attractive and that I longed to satisfy my lust and curiosity, but could I bring myself to actually follow through with it. These thoughts were still going through my mind as I drove over, and even if nothing happened, I was still very much looking forward to seeing mum again.
To celebrate mum’s new job, I had decided to buy her a new dress. I wanted something that would show off her figure to maximum advantage, and after looking round several shops I chose a light brown halter neck dress. It was quite short, and cut very low at the back. Although mum was now at least a size 14, I bought a size 12, as the material was quite elastic, and I was sure it would stretch to accommodate her expanded curves. So I told her not to get dressed up, as I had bought her a new dress to wear.
When I called on her at the appointed hour, she answered the door dressed just in a very short silky dressing gown.
“Very nice,” I drawled in a tone of sleazy appreciation, as I drew her into a hug. “Perhaps we’ll forget about the new dress, just keep on what you’re wearing now,” I said. Mum giggled. She felt amazing through the dressing gown as I ran my hands over her, and I could feel by the softness of her breasts against me that she wasn’t wearing a bra.
“So how’s my favourite milf?” I asked her, when I finally released my embrace.
“I’m good,” mum replied, smiling.
“You’re certainly looking good,” I confirmed.
And she was. The change in her manner and appearance was remarkable, compared with 4 weeks ago when she clung to me craving reassurance. Her expression was much happier and confident, and this in turn made her look more attractive and sexy. I found my gaze lingering on her gown and couldn’t help imagining what lay beneath. It was tied loosely round the waist, and it took a major effort of restraint not to pull the cord and allow the robe fall open.
“Hello!” I heard mum calling in a sing-song voice, drawing me out of my reverie. “Aren’t you going to show me what you’ve bought me, then. I love surprises.”
“You’d better see what it is before you get too excited,” I cautioned her. She opened the bag, pulled out the dress and held it against her.
“Jeez, didn’t they have a bigger size?” mum said laughing, “I’ll never get into that.”
In truth, it did look ridiculously small against her.
“It’s nice and stretchy,” I pointed out.
“It will have to be,” mum said.
“And you won’t need to wear a bra,” I pointed out.
“Well, that’s good,” mum said, “I’ve hardly got any that still fit me properly.”
“Are you going to see if it fits, then?” I asked her.
A few weeks ago, I think mum would have refused point blank to even try it on. Now she took it as a challenge.
“I’ll have a bloody good try,” mum replied, going into her bedroom with it and – to my disappointment – decorously pushing the door to behind her, with a look that said: ‘not yet…’
After a few minutes she summoned me into her bedroom.
When I went in I couldn’t believe my eyes.
Her shapely boobs hung down into the close fitting bikini-style halter top, which was gathered in immediately below her bust, helping to support it and resulting in the most eye-popping display of cleavage. Moreover, the thin material did nothing to disguise the outline of her prominent nipples. The remainder of the dress clung to her like a second skin, wrapping itself tightly around the very top of her plump thighs, showcasing the swell of her hips, belly and bottom, which I found very arousing.
“You look stunning,” I said.
And she did. As any woman will be uncomfortably aware, whereas dark colours help to flatter any unwanted bulges, light coloured dresses like this one tend to accentuate beylikdüzü escort curves, which was exactly the effect I had intended. But I was also sure that there were more curves to show off than the last time I had seen her. Her fuller boobs looked sensational spilling out of the halter top, and there was no disguising her tummy bulge, but it was still firm and proud, not saggy like many women who have put on weight.
“It doesn’t leave very much to the imagination, does it,” mum said, examining herself in the mirror,
“And it makes my tummy look even fatter,” she added, giving it a good slap.
“I think your belly looks really sexy,” I told her, “But in any case, nobody is going to be looking at your tummy. You are certainly developing a very fine set of boobs.”
“Well, it is nice to know that all the extra weight isn’t just going on my tummy. Perhaps all the beer I’m drinking is doing me some favours after all,” mum said.
“So keep on drinking,” I said.
“I wasn’t planning to stop,” mum replied, with a smirk.
I went up close, put my arms around her and drew her to me. We looked at each other, our lips only inches apart, and mum moved in for the kiss, her lips parted and our tongues met, tentatively at first, and then more forcefully. It gave me a weird feeling but was undeniably thrilling, and when we finally drew apart the bulge in my jeans must have been obvious. Mum gave me a knowing smile and said: Let’s go and have something to eat, I’m starving.
I was about to suggest going to the pub in town that we went to before, but mum had other ideas. “Can we go for an Italian this time?” she asked, “I’d love some pasta for a change.”
“Of course,” I replied, “There’s a good one in town, isn’t there?”
“Great!” mum said, and gave me another hug. This was becoming a habit, and I didn’t waste the opportunity of giving her inviting bottom a good squeeze in return.
I decided to catch the bus into town, as parking was likely to be a problem on a Saturday. The bus driver certainly took his time issuing our tickets as he copped an eyeful of mum’s cleavage. As I’ve said, mum’s dress was daringly short, and it rose up as she sat down on the bus, exposing the full length of her beefy thighs. If there hadn’t been another seat immediately in front, anyone caring to look would have clearly been able to see mum’s knickers. Except that they wouldn’t, because mum bent her mouth to my ear and confided that she wasn’t wearing any.
“Is that so?” I said, mightily impressed. I placed my hand on her thigh, and she slowly parted her legs, allowing me to slide my hand up the inside of her thighs until my fingers brushed the wispy hairs of her sex.
“You are living dangerously, you naughty girl,” I said, and mum giggled delightedly.
As we walked from the bus stop to the restaurant mum looked incredibly sexy with the tight dress clinging tenaciously to all her curves, and barely long enough to conceal her bottom, with her braless boobs swaying delightfully, as the meagre support of the halter top struggled to contain them. Mum was certainly turning heads as we went into the restaurant and were shown to a table. I ordered a pint of lager for myself, and a bottle of wine for mum as we studied the menu. I was sitting opposite mum, and couldn’t take my eyes off her; she looked radiant, and the view down her cleavage was vertiginous.
I asked her if she’d been on the beer again yesterday evening after she’d finished her shift in the pub.
“Only for a couple of hours,” mum replied, “I didn’t want to be tired and hungover when my toyboy was coming round for the weekend, did I?”
“I feel very privileged,” I said. “I’m surprised they let you go earlier if you were wearing those shiny leggings again.”
“Oh, it wasn’t for want of trying,” mum said, “But I told them my boyfriend was arriving.”
Mum had already finished almost half the bottle of wine by the time the food arrived. We carried on chatting as we ate, mum enjoying a big plate of pasta.
I was intrigued to know whether she had responded to either of the phone numbers she had been given. Mum said: “Not yet.”
“Which of them tempts you most?” I wanted to know, “‘Watersports’ Dave, or Rachel?”
Mum considered this for a moment. She said that she would really like Rachel as a friend, because they got along so well. “I think we could have a lot of fun together,” mum said
“Including sharing her bed,?” I asked.
“It’s not such a dreadful prospect,” mum replied, “And you know what they say: you should try anything once.”
“Mind you,” she continued, “Dave seemed very nice as well, and not at all pushy, like some blokes are. And he did look very sexy in his lycra.”
By now mum had finished her meal, and the bottle of wine, so I asked her if she wanted to look at the sweet menu.
“Oh, go on then,” she said, “There’s no harm in looking, is there.” I could almost see her salivating as she cast her eye down the choices, and decided beylikdüzü eve gelen escort upon some confection full of chocolate. If she was worried about her figure, she wasn’t going to let it spoil her appetite.
“I’ll need another drink to wash it down, though,” mum told me, so I went and bought her another glass of wine.
When she’d finished, she leaned back in her chair, saying: “I’m stuffed.”
“You should be so lucky,” I joked.
“Well, I certainly hope so,” mum retorted, looking straight at me.
Her belly certainly did look bloated, as it challenged the elasticity of the dress. I couldn’t resist patting it. I asked her if she’d got room in there for another drink.
“Of course,” mum said, “I’ve always got room for another drink, but let’s go somewhere a bit more cosy.”
“OK”, I said, and asked for the bill.
Despite the moderating effects of all the food, mum was now well under the influence of all the alcohol she had consumed, and I had to help her to her feet, before guiding her slowly down the street with my arm snugly around her waist. We went into a nearby pub, which contained a mixture of couples and a few single men drinking at the bar. They all gave mum a good look as we went in, and whether or not they found her particularly attractive, most of them seemed mesmerised by the view. Mum ordered a Snakebite & Black, adding a toxic cocktail of beer and cider to the litre of wine she was already carrying in her belly.
I was so proud to be standing with my arm around mum, showcasing her voluptuous curves in that revealing dress, I decided to remain at the bar, instead of sitting down, the better for everyone to view her. However, mum had noticed that there was one vacant stool at the bar. She hoisted herself rather inelegantly onto it, sitting with her knees slightly apart, so that she was facing away from the bar, and could be seen by anyone in the pub who cared to look. And quite a few did. Had she remembered that she wasn’t wearing any knickers? I was pretty sure that she had, and knew exactly what she was doing. I was also sure that if she had been on her own, she wouldn’t have done anything so wanton, but because she was with me, she felt invulnerable.
Mum was relishing the attention, actively courting eye contact, and returning a conspiratorial smile to those whose gaze was lingering much longer than was discrete. When I was able to snare her attention, I asked her what she wanted to do next, but she said she didn’t mind. I knew that mum was partial to a Rom-Com, and I had found out that one was showing at the local multiplex, so I asked if she fancied going to the cinema, and told her what was on.
“Ooh,” she cooed, “That would be lovely, I haven’t been to the pictures for years.”
When mum had finished her drink, I suggested we make our way to the cinema. Mum nearly fell as she launched herself off the bar stool.
“Rachel warned me that drink had a kick in it,” mum said, after she’d finished laughing at herself.
She then made her precarious way towards the Ladies toilet, holding onto various items of furniture for support as she did so. I did consider helping her, but I got the feeling she was enjoying making a drunken exhibition of herself, as she paused several times to look around at the various reactions of amusement, lechery and disgust that she was eliciting.
I kept my arm firmly round mum’s waist as we walked slowly to the cinema.
I booked seats in the back row for us, but there was still a bit of time to kill before the programme started, and mum had already noticed that the cinema had its own bar area next to the lobby.
“I’m going to have another drink,” she announced. It was obvious that she was already having great difficulty remaining upright, but that wouldn’t be a problem when she was going to be sitting down for the next two hours. I told her she’d better make it a small one, as it was quite a long film, but mum said she was thirsty, and ordered another pint of snakebite.
We chatted for a while, and then I went off to empty my bladder before the film started. When I came back, mum was leaning provocatively on the bar talking to the young barman. He had his attention riveted to mum’s cleavage, which she had knowingly displayed to maximum advantage. He must have noted me returning in his peripheral vision, but I didn’t want to interrupt the proceedings, so I stood a little distance apart, pretending to study a poster detailing forthcoming films.
Mum hadn’t even noticed my return. She was laughing at something the barman had said.
“God, I feel drunk,” she slurred.
“Doesn’t your son mind?” the barman asked her.
“Oh, him,” she said, almost dismissively, “He’s the one buying me all the drinks. He’s my toyboy,” she added proudly.
“I see,” the barman said, in a tone of voice that suggested the very opposite.
“He bought me this dress,” mum told him. “Do you think I’m too fat for it?” she asked, sticking beylikdüzü masöz escort her chest out even further.
“Not at all,” he replied, “I think you’ve got a lovely figure.”
“Oh, you’re so nice,” mum said, looking him straight in the eye, “I wish I was your age again, I wouldn’t guard my pussy so preciously, I feel like I’ve missed out all these years. Have you got a girlfriend?” she asked him.
“Sort of,” he replied vaguely.
“I bet you can keep it up all night, can’t you?” mum said.
“Well, er,” he mumbled, blushing.
“Your too modest,” mum said, “I’d put you to the test if I was your girlfriend.”
“I’m sure you would,” he confirmed.
I glanced at my watch and walked over to them:
“It’s time we were going in, mum.” She looked round stupidly at me in surprise, almost as though she had forgotten why we were there.
“OK,” she said, and drained the remainder of her pint.
“I hope you’ve got a strong bladder,” the barman ventured to say, but mum just giggled. As she moved from the support of the bar, she swayed alarmingly, and I’m sure she would have fallen, had I not moved to support her. I put my arm firmly round her waist, but that didn’t prevent her stumbling up the steps in the auditorium. We found our seats, raised the armrest between us up out of the way, snuggled in close, and I draped an arm around her shoulders.
“I feel like a teenager again, sitting in the back row,” she drawled. “I hope you’re not going to try anything on,” she added playfully, “I know what you boys are like,” but I just smiled mischievously and gave her a kiss. We sat watching the ads and trailers, and then the main feature started. In the flickering light of the film, I could look down on the bountiful globes of mum’s boobs within the halter top, but I also couldn’t help noticing the pale flesh of mum’s plump thighs fully exposed in their abundant glory. Her dress, which was immodestly short to start with, must have ridden up as mum slumped in her seat.
Her legs looked so inviting, I couldn’t resist placing my other hand on her thigh, and gave it a gentle squeeze. Mum didn’t object, so I started gently caressing its generous proportions up and down until my hand was brushing the wispy hairs of her pussy. Not wanting to push my luck, I continued kneading the yielding flesh of her inner thighs, which I now had full access to as mum’s legs had slowly parted.
After some minutes, I felt her place her hand over mine. I thought she was going to remove it, but instead, she guided it up to her crotch. I started exploring her thatch with my middle finger until I found the entrance to her cunt, already warm, wet and welcoming. Mum shuddered as my finger slipped in. We had a whole film ahead of us, so there was no need to rush things, so I gently worked my finger in and out, as mum sighed with pleasure.
Mum’s breathing was gradually getting heavier, so after a while I slid my finger out and up until I felt the hard nub of her clit. Mum jolted as though an electric shock had gone through her. It was obvious she was already very aroused, so I swirled my finger lightly all around her clit, taking care not to touch the tip.
“God, that feels so good,” I heard mum whisper. The film was quite forgotten, as she closed her eyes and succumbed to the waves of pleasure emanating from her inflamed sex. Her breath was coming in short gasps, as my finger continued encircling the bud. Now she clasped both hands to her breasts and started squeezing the engorged nipples.
Mum was now moaning quite audibly and she hissed at me urgently:
“Make me cum, make me cum.” I teased my finger around the nub a while longer before giving the tip of her clit the lightest of caresses, and mum immediately convulsed into orgasm, with a kind of strangulated cry that had those sitting nearby looking round in alarm or annoyance. I continued stroking my finger across the super-sensitised organ as Mum thrashed around in her seat, moaning in ecstasy at my touch.
At length, I removed my hand, and mum’s breathing very gradually returned to something more normal. I leaned over and kissed her, tentatively at first, but more urgently as she responded, until mum was taking the initiative and our tongues were wrestling furiously with each other in their eagerness to explore each other’s mouths. After some minutes of this, we paused for breath, and then our lips met again, more tenderly and lingering this time.
Suddenly I felt mum’s hand alight on the front of my jeans, her fingers reaching for the zip, and tugging it down. I told her to hold on for a second, whilst I reached inside my jeans and pulled my briefs to one side in order to release my rampant erection. Mum placed her hand around it, and made an unmistakably appreciative noise as she felt its hardness and length.
“Who’s a big boy, then?” she said, after she’d been rubbing her fingers up and down it for a few moments. What with the excitement of making mum cum, and being in such a public place, I was already very near to cumming myself. I hadn’t seen my girlfriend for nearly a week, and not even had a wank for a couple of days, so I knew that when I did cum, it would be a really big one. I was getting quite concerned about the prospect of shooting spunk all over my jeans and t-shirt, as I knew from previous experience how difficult it is to clean off.
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