- My Boyfriend’s mom was better – part 1
- My Boyfriend’s mom was better – part 2
Although I was bewildered by her advances, I cooperated and lifted up my legs, one at a time, so she could pull the pantyhose off me.
She got up, tossed them in the waste-basket, and ordered, “Sit on the edge of my bed, my dear.”
Although everything about this was unorthodox, I was compelled to obey, as if she were my very own Fairy Godmother… creating a new, sexy me. I looked around for singing mice, but didn’t see any.
I hopped onto her bed and she returned to me. She took the pantyhose back from me. I suddenly learned they were not actually pantyhose… but very elegant, very sheer, very luxurious thigh high stockings.
I remained in silent shock and awe as she again dropped to her knees, and began rolling a stocking up my leg.
She explained, “These are expensive, but sexy as hell and so silky sheer.”
“Oh,” was all I could muster. The silk gliding up my leg felt so nice.
Weird… but oh so nice.
She stood up, lifted my leg up, so high that my covered pussy (my covered,shavedpussy) was suddenly in full view of her, as she finished rolling up the stocking.
“Apparently you need new panties too,” she said, noticing my cheap Walmart panties… light blue and cotton blend.
Yet again surprising me, she reached up and ordered, “Lift up, sweetie.”
I again complied, my mind in confused, unquestioning, obedience mode, as she tugged my panties down my legs.
“You shaved,” she noticed, “Very nice. Sweetness, you have a very ripe, juicy looking pussy. I’m so glad she’s decided to leave the forest and come out into the light of day.”
I could find no response to the strangest compliment I had ever received. I was speechless from this whole ordeal, yet oddly my pussy was wet.
“We’ll have to take you garment shopping ASAP,” she declared, as she walked away and tossed another piece of my clothing into the waste-basket, as I sat at the edge of her bed wearing no panties and only one stocking. Talk about surreal! I looked around for Salvador Dali, but didn’t see him either.
She returned, dropped back to her knees and slowly glided the second stocking up my other leg.
She again lifted my leg up to finish smoothing the stocking and repeated, as she gazed openly between my legs, her tone somehow different this time, “Yep, such a ripe, juicy pussy.”
She let go of my leg and went back to her dresser.
She returned a minute later with what was definitely not my typical underwear.
“Stand up,” she ordered, as she dropped to her knees in front of me for the fourth time.
I obeyed for the umpteenth time. I didn’t know why I was complying with her every request, but it seemed… somehow comfortable was the perfect word.
I robotically lifted my right foot, then my left foot, so she could adorn me with what was obviously a thong. Does anybody outside of Las Vegas ever wear thongs? Apparently so.
Although we weren’t anywhere near Las Vegas, she then slowly slid the thong up my sheer stocking-clad legs, her warm breath every so lightly tickling my pussy, sending a chill through my entire body, and approved, “This is so much better, my dear.”
“Thank you,” I responded, actually feeling sexier in the strange lingerie.
“You are a sexy young woman, Tessa,” she complimented, standing in front of me. “It’s time to stop hiding.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I nodded, basking in these many compliments that I never got from my own mother.
“And none of this ma’am stuff,” she scolded. “I’m Lia.”
“Sorry, of course,” I nodded, as she took my hand and led me back to the living room.
….
Once back in the living room, she led me to the dinner table and patted a seat, “You will sit here beside me.”
“Oh, okay,” I nodded, before asking, “Can I help with anything?”
“Not right now,” she smiled, before adding with a playful tone, “but remember that question for later.”
“Okay,” I nodded, having no idea what she meant. She walked into the kitchen.
James came up from behind me seconds later and startled me.
He complimented me like he often did, even more so since my makeover, before giving me a kiss. He asked, “Why are you wearing a dress?”
“Just trying to get into your mother’s good graces,” I answered.
“She already says you’re delicious. Just be yourself,” James advised.
I nodded, perplexed at hearing the word ‘delicious’ again, and trying to flirt, “Plus, I also wanted to look good for this handsome guy I know.”
“Who is he?” James joked, putting his dukes up.
“I think you know him,” I smiled, playing along.
“I’ll kill him,” he said, starting to shadow the box.
“Please don’t do that, you big bruiser,” I smiled. “I think he may be a keeper.” I leaned in and kissed him again, enjoying our playful banter.
The kiss was interrupted by Lia who said, “No hanky-panky at the table, you two.”
“Oh, Mom,” James said, breaking the kiss. “This isn’t the 1950s anymore.”
“Do you think I was alive in the 1950s?” She questioned, her tone suddenly insulted.
“I was kidding,” James said, before adding, unable to control himself, “I know you’re a sixties child.”
“Tessa, you may be a widow before you’re married,” she joked.
“Mom!” James exclaimed.
Lia responded, able to give as much as she took, “You’ll never do better than Tessa here. I can’t even fathom why she is dating you, she could obviously do so much better.”
“Mom!” James repeated.
I added, “Yeah, James, you better shape up or ship out.”
“Not both of you,” he sighed, protectively covering his head with his arms, abandoning any offense in favor of defense, signaling that he had been overpowered by overwhelming odds.
“We’re like a double-barrelled shotgun,” Lia jokes, “so you’d better be a good boy. Now take a seat; dinner is ready.”
“Yes, Mom,” he nodded, submissively taking a seat as Lia disappeared back into the kitchen.
I took a seat opposite from him, where she had earlier instructed me, finding the placement of our seats very odd.
There were two chairs adjacent to each other on one of the table’s long sides, one chair on the other long side, but none at either end. I was across from James, and Lia was next to me.
Lia, like the mom of the year she was, brought out the meals. Her husband, having learned he was gay, had left her two years ago, so she was now a single mom. She was obviously not thinking about her ex as she gave me a dazzling smile before sitting down to join us.
The three of us chatted throughout dinner, Lia squeezing my arm three times (yes I was counting) as she asked me questions or pelted her son with playful condemnations. She joked that it was nice to have more estrogen than testosterone for once, before her hand gave my leg squeeze number four as we agreed that James needed a haircut before the prom… but this time her hand remained on my leg.
She asked a moment later, “James, could you be a dear and go get me another glass of wine?”
“Sure, Mom,” he nodded, getting up and asking me like the gentleman he was, “Can I get you anything, Tessa?”
“I’m okay,” I answered, as Lia traced her fingers up and down my knee up to the hem of my dress.
Once he was gone, Lia asked, “Do you like how silky these nylons are?”
“Yes, they are super soft,” I concurred, again finding the situation awkward, but not feeling daring enough to say so.
She took my hand and placed it on her own leg. “They feel even better when you touch them on someone else’s leg.”
“You’re right,” I agreed, the sheer nylon feeling sexy and soft on her legs, my fingers enjoying the silkiness and soft warmth of her thigh but not in control, as she moved my wrist up and down slowly.
“I’m always right,” she joked, just as James returned with a glass of wine.
I quickly pulled my hand away, as if I had been caught cheating, but she didn’t… her hand remained resting on my leg.
Not at all deterred by my boyfriend’s presence, she gave my leg a firm squeeze… as if speaking to me through touch… although this was a language brand new to me. I was far from fluent.
We resumed chatting, but I was constantly distracted by Lia’s hand on my leg. It seemed to be creeping ever so slowly up my leg, now noticeably beyond where the hem of my dress had originally been.
James asked, “Are you okay, Tessa? You look flushed.”
“Oh, oh, I’m fine,” I stammered, just as Lia shocked me by placing a finger directly on my barely covered pussy and boldly tracing my pussy lips.
“You sure?” he asked, looking concerned.
“Yessssss,” I trembled, as her finger slipped smoothly inside me, and my head spun with shock. All the other moments I had dismissed as strange but innocent, had not been innocent at all.
“Okay,” he said, not pushing it any farther, although his mother was indeed pushing it farther… farther inside me.
“Shoot,” Lia sighed. “I forgot the butter in the fridge. Can you be a dear James, and go get it for me?”
“Of course,” James nodded, getting up and leaving us alone again.
As soon as James was gone again, she grabbed a breadstick with her free hand, moved it under the table and before I could respond or even process what she was doing, she pulled her finger out and slid the breadstick in, pumping it in and out for just a few seconds. I was already paralyzed with shock at being molested by my boyfriend’s mother, so all I could do was let out a rather loud moan.
Just before James returned to the table, she pulled out the breadstick, whispered, “I like homemade butter,” and took a bite off the same breadstick that had just been inside me. Could you get a yeast infection from a breadstick? I hoped not.
My already wide-eyed look somehow got even wider, watching this outrageous woman enjoying bread coated with my pussy juice.
James joked, “Couldn’t wait for the butter?”
Lia shrugged, “It was already seasoned. It’s very good, actually.”
“Oh, okay,” James said, sitting back down.