Mom's Christmas Dress


"Done?" she asked.

I nodded. Mom got up.

"Thanks, sweetheart. That feels much better. I'm glad you talked me into it."

Thankfully, Mom didn't linger. She moved away.

"Goodnight, Mom."

"Sweet dreams," she called back.

I didn't watch Mom go up the stairs. I waited until I heard her door close before getting up. Her stockings lay where I had dropped them on the floor. I turned and climbed the stairs. Twin trails gouged into the rug leading down the hallway stopped me dead in my tracks. They led from Dad's door to the top of the stairs, then turned into the small alcove at the top of the landing. I stepped into the alcove and knelt down until I was looking about a foot over the railing, about the height I would be if I was sitting in a chair, a wheel chair.

Fear pierced my chest. Had Dad been there? Had he seen me fondling Mom? No. He would have said something. Wouldn't he? He must have come out while Mom and I were at dinner. I went to the bathroom to clean myself up.


The next day was Christmas Eve. Again, there was no package before noon. I slipped out to do some more shopping and was back by two. Mom was in the kitchen, listening to the radio and sipping her afternoon coffee. I joined her.

"What's for dinner tonight, Mom?"

"What? You're not taking me out?" she teased.

"Whoa," I laughed. "I can't afford that too often."

Mom laughed with me, then said, "Well, I hope it was worth it. I certainly enjoyed it."

"So did I, Mom," I said, turning serious. "It's a memory I won't forget."

"Listen to you, Mr. Serious."

The doorbell rang. I ran to get the door. Another package. I returned to the kitchen where Mom still sat. She hadn't moved.

"For you."


I opened the package. There was a small, gift-wrapped box inside.

"What do you think it is?" Mom asked.

"I have no idea."


"Really, Mom. I don't know who's sending this stuff."

"It might not be for me. There's no card this time."

I cursed myself. I'd been in such a rush.

"You know," Mom said, "your father once had a dress made for me that was identical to the one that came in the mail."

"I know, Mom. You already told me." That was why Mom had queried me about Dad's reaction. Clearly, that dress had played some important role in their relationship.

"That's right. we...loved that dress. We used to play together after supper. All night, sometimes."

Mom paused, looked wistfully at the ceiling as if she could look through it so see Dad, then went on, "I never wore it outside. That was the first time, at dinner with you."

I guess she forgot she'd told me that too.

"It's a different dress, Mom."

"Not really," Mom said.

I didn't know what to say, so I remained silent.

"I think your father sent the dress. Who else could know how it was made?"

I didn't answer. Mom wasn't really speaking to me. She was thinking out loud.

"Let's just have a light dinner tonight. Is that OK with you?"

"Sure, Mom."

"You've turned into quite the dancer. I suppose you'll want to dance after dinner."

"If you insist." I grinned.

"I do," Mom grinned back.

After taking Dad's dinner upstairs, Mom and I ate in the kitchen. The present was set in the middle of the table. After we finished, Mom made some tea and only after it had steeped and was poured did she open the gift.

Perfume. I can't say I was surprised. Mom didn't seem taken aback either. She dabbed some on her wrist and smelled it.

"Nice," she said. "I guess I better get my dancing clothes on."

The thrill of anticipation swept through me at the sound of those words. I could hardly wait.

"Why don't you get out of those jeans and put on some nice slacks?"

"These are my best jeans," I protested.

"They're too rough," Mom complained.

I was shocked. That was the first reference Mom had made about how close we 'danced'." Mom seemed to realize what she'd said, blushed, and spoke again, probably more to distance add distance to her words than anything else.

"Anyway, jeans don't match a fancy dress."

"Ok, Mom. I'm convinced. I'll meet you back here."

I was downstairs waiting when Mom began descending the stairs. I had the music already playing. I had stacked several CDs of slow music. The deck was stacked, so to speak. I gasped when Mom reached the bottom of the stairs. She was wearing the dress but as she passed under the hall light I could see that the shimmery covering in front of her dress had been removed. Mom moved toward me, the inside swells of her breasts clearly visible, jiggling slightly with each step. She stopped in front of me, glanced at the stereo, then smiled.

"I see you're ready."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Mom looked at the stereo again, perhaps to give me time to ogle her breasts, or, more to the point, to get hold of myself and stop ogling them. She had to prompt me into action.

"You can't see perfume, you know. You have to smell it."

"What?," I cried.

"You seem to be looking to see if I put the perfume on."

I shook my head and felt my face reddening.

"Here," Mom said, reaching out to pull me toward her. "Here's proof that the present didn't go to waste."

Mom pulled my head down to her shoulder, turning my face into the crook of her neck. After a few seconds, she moved my head lower, under her neck, tilting her head back to make room. I was looking straight down between Mom's breasts. I was in heaven. I could smell the perfume but I also sensed a musky odor beneath it. I can only describe it as, woman.

"Let's dance now," Mom said, pushing me away.

I took her into my arms, reluctant to block the view. Another surprise. As my arms folded around Mom's back, I found bare skin. Exploring with my hands, I discovered that most of Mom's back was bare, right down to her waist, even starting up the rise to her buttocks.

"I think you like this dress as much as your father did," she whispered.

"I do," I whispered back.

Mom nestled into me and we began to dance. I mentally thanked her for talking me out of my jeans, feeling a new appreciation for her soft warmth. Mom's lips gently probed my neck and my arms tightened around her.

The first CD finished. We swayed together, silently, while the second clicked into place. As soon as the music started, Mom reached behind herself to grasp my hands which had behaved themselves since the first note fell on our ears. Gently, Mom pressed my hands lower, then released mine and returned to my shoulders. My fingers were soon playing lightly over her ass, unhurriedly, as I was confident that they could stay.

We danced the whole CD that way. Mom's hips swayed gently to the music and I stayed still, letting her move ever so lightly against my rock hard cock. Periodically, I pressed her ass closer, but not hard. Just a subtle pull. When the CD finished, Mom suggested we make ourselves a drink. I followed her into the kitchen, marveling at the smooth, unblemished skin of her back. Not a single mole to be seen.

I stood beside her while she made us drinks. She didn't hurry and never looked at me, giving me the confidence to investigate her partially visible breasts without worrying about being caught. Several times she reached for a glass or ingredient, managing to let the dress gap forward, briefly revealing a full, naked breast. She had wonderful tits and I had ample time to see that her experienced nipples were as stiff as my young cock. I wondered what kind of game we were playing here, then pushed such negative thoughts out of my head. I wanted to touch her tits. Would she let me?

Mom turned to hand me my drink, then leaned back against the counter, arching her back and pushing her tits against the dress. My eyes were drawn down and lingered. Mom just smiled, then took a drink. a long one that didn't end until the drink was gone. She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and laughed. I downed my drink in a single gulp and grasped her hand, tugging her toward the living room, her throaty laugh spurring me on.

I didn't look at the top of the stairs. I pulled Mom into the middle of the living room and folded her into my arms. My hands slid down her back and onto her ass. The throaty laugh played again. We began moving against each other. I moved my hands up to Mom's waist and then up her sides, brushing the sides of her breasts. At first, I moved tentatively, as if accidently caressing her tits, but when she didn't object, it became a regular part of our dance. My hands moved lightly over the dress, from Mom's ass to her waist, up her sides to brush the sides of her tits, then down her back to start over.

Mom laughed softly from time to time, nibbling my neck, and murmuring soft words I couldn't make out. But I didn't miss the first press of her pelvis against my cock, the first tiny thrust not initiated by my pressing fingers. It only happened once that song, but the next it happened twice, and the one after, that three times. I allowed my hands to pause as they brushed by her breasts and couple of times I even briefly cupped the sides of her almost hefty swells.

While we waited for the next CD to start, Mom pressed against me again. I pulled back, triggering a sound of surprise. When she pressed forward a moment later, I retreated again. The song started and we began a periodic game of chase and retreat. Between the first and second song, Mom tried to surprise me with another attack but I surprised her instead by pressing forward to meet her charge. We mashed together and Mom slumped in my arms, moaning softly. I reached down and clutched her ass, holding her firmly against my raging cock. Mom's arms circled my neck, squeezing tight. I thrust myself firmly against her, my hands separating her cheeks as I pulled her tight. There was no pretense of dancing now. We were dry-humping each other.

Suddenly, Mom pushed my chest hard, forcing me back. We stood, separated by inches, panting. My eyes delved into her heaving chest and Mom's searched for and found my bulging pants.

Without looking up to meet my eyes, Mom gasped, "I think that's enough dancing for tonight."

"Yes," I agreed, though I didn't want to stop. "Should I do your feet now?"

"Yes," Mom replied, turning away without hesitation me and walking to Dad's chair.

She sat down and raised her feet from the ground, legs held primly together. I stepped toward her, pointedly avoiding meeting her eyes and also being careful not to look upstairs. I didn't care if anyone was watching, I didn't want anything to prevent this from happening.

Mom raised her knees higher as I knelt before her causing her skirt to slip higher up her thighs. Her eyes followed its fall, then closed. I took Mom's feet into my hands, immediately pulling them forward and apart, opening her legs. The backs of her thighs were almost completely exposed. I could see far beyond the end of her stockings. I started my massage.

I moved more quickly than the night before, unafraid that Mom would stop me, at least until after I passed her knees. I was gentle, stroking and caressing with newfound skill. I simply reached her knees more quickly than before. There I removed her stockings, which were not held by any clasps. I paused only briefly before continuing my caressing path beyond Mom's knees and onto the inside of her lower thigh, stroking underneath her leg up to the point where her leg thickened. The intake of her breath made me withdraw but I soon returned. This then, was the new boundary. I was confident that I could stroke her to my heart's content to this point. I slowed down and concentrated on making it feel as good to her as I possibly could.

I was surprised by how much time went by before I discovered what lay before me. I had been concentrating so hard on Mom's thighs and how far along their length I could go that I completely missed the prize. It was the faint odor that triggered my brain to review the observation that Mom's stockings had been unclasped. My gaze followed a path up the inside of her thighs. There, before me, as it had been all the time, was Mom's bare pussy.

Mom had been dancing without panties, and here she was now, spread before me. She wasn't sleeping. She had to know that I was looking. My hands had stopped. I gazed at her uncovered muff and as I did, her lips seemed to part, showing just a hint of pinkness before closing again, as if winking at me. I waited to see if this marvel would be repeated. It was.

She was moist. Her odor was strong.

I raised my eyes to look at the inside swells of Mom's breasts. I leaned forward and slipped my thumbs underneath the lapels of the dress. Gently, I lifted and pulled them apart, baring Mom's tits. They rose and fell on Mom's chest and I could see that she was struggling to contain her breathing. She was letting me see her, legs spread to show her pussy, tits thrust into the air, topped by stiff nipples. How far could I go? Would she let me touch her pussy? Kiss it? Could I squeeze her tits and flick her nipples?

I reached forward and grasped a tit in each hand, curling my index fingers around her nipples.

Mom's eyes flew open.

"Ryan! What are you doing?" she shouted.

I jerked my hands back and fell back onto my heels.

"I...I... uh."

"My God. I don't believe it."

Mom leapt to her feet and brushed past me, knocking me over onto my side. I turned to see her running up the stairs, holding her dress together.

"My God, my God."

Her door slammed.

I was lost. What had just happened? She all but asked me to touch her. What had I done wrong?

I got to my feet and went upstairs. Thankfully, Mom had gone to her own room. She hadn't gone to see Dad and I was relieved to see no light shining beneath his door. With heavy heart, I went into my room and closed my door. I stripped quickly down to my boxers and climbed into bed. I was near tears. How could I face Mom in the morning? I had read her all wrong. I actually sobbed a couple of times while reviewing the evening in my mind.

There was tap at my door. It opened and Mom was standing in the door, lit from behind by the hallway light. She had a robe tightly wound around her.



"Can we just forget what happened?"

Relief flooded through me. If I had been standing, I probably would have fallen.

"Yeah, Mom. Sure. I mean, I'm really sorry...,"

"Shhhhh. Let's just forget and not talk about it, Ok?"

"Ok, Mom."

There was a long pause.

"You forgot to open your present."

"My present?"

"Yes. You know we always open a special one on Christmas Eve."

"Oh. That's ok, Mom. It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does. It's a tradition. Come to my room to open your present. I've been hiding it. Be quiet so you don't wake your Dad."

She was gone, ending any argument. I got up and searched my drawers for some pajamas. Under the circumstances, I couldn't go into Mom's room in my boxers. I dropped them and pulled the pajama bottoms up, then headed for Mom's room.

Mom was lying in bed, the covers pulled up to her neck, hiding her body. I cringed inside but she smiled at me pleasantly.

"Shut the door," she instructed.

I did, then walked to the foot of her bed. I looked for a present but didn't see one. Mom waited, smiling. Finally, I gave in.

"Where's my present?"

"Right here," Mom said, nodding at the bed.

"Where?" I asked.

"In here." She nodded at her bed again. "Under the covers."

God, she was going to really rub it in.


"You have to get it yourself."

"What is it?"

"Come and see. Don't worry. I'm all wrapped up."

I walked around to the side of Mom's bed, reached down to grasp the covers, and started to peel them back. Mom had a very strange smile on her face. I pulled the covers back far enough to bare Mom's neck and shoulders which were bare except for a red ribbon, about an inch wide and made of cloth rather than the hard stuff ribbons are normally made of. The ribbon wrapped around Mom's neck, then disappeared under the covers only to reappear in loops over her shoulders.

I pulled the covers further down, to the tops of Mom's breasts and baring the side closest to me. The ribbon coiled around her arm and was wrapped around her chest, even as far down as her waist which I could see on this side. Throwing caution to the wind, a hard thing to do given what had happened downstairs, I yanked the covers down to Mom's knees.

"Merry Christmas, son."

Mom was naked except for the red ribbon wrapped around and around her body. It snaked in and around her bare breasts and coiled around her thighs. I looked and confirmed that her pussy was covered by a single strand of ribbon.

"This might take you a while to unwrap," Mom said, clearly amused and pleased with her humor, delighting in the shock evident on my face.

"But, but...," I stammered.

"Take your pajamas off. I want to look at you while you free me."

I dropped my pajamas and was pleased to hear Mom gasp as my cock bolted from its cotton prison. I climbed onto Mom's bed.

"Take your time," Mom said. "And no cheating. You have to completely unwrap me before you can play with your gift."

That was very hard to do. Mom didn't help me at all. In fact, she deliberately made it difficult. Having to pull the ribbon off her gorgeous tits without squeezing them was hell itself. It must have taken me more than fifteen minutes to get the ribbon completely off her. Only then did Mom let me play.

"Kiss me," she insisted, her voice revealing an impatience as great as mine.

I moved on top of her, aligning my legs with hers, pushing my cock onto her soft, moist, puffiness. For the first time in my life, my tongue slipped inside my mother's mouth. What a duel. Our bodies writhed together as our tongues twisted around each other. Try as I might, I couldn't slip my eager cock inside her. She laughed when our lips finally parted.

"You're going to have to work harder than that."

She pushed my head down, forcing a nipple into my mouth.

"Suck me," she cried.

I did as I was told, filling my mouth with the tits I had so desperately wanted to touch only an hour before. They were wonderful. I moved from one to the other, massaging the free one with my fingers until I realized there was only one way to get control of this woman. Latching onto Mom's right tit, I moved my left hand down, underneath her thigh and around between her legs. I found her pussy and pushed my fingers inside.

"Ohhhhhh, God. So long," she sighed.

I moved my fingers rapidly in and out, clamping down tight on her nipple with my lips. I sucked hard and twisted my fingers in her cunt. Mom moaned in response. I pushed my fingers in and shook my hand rapidly, mimicking the motion of a vibrator.

"Ohhh god, oh god, oh god."

I released Mom's tit and dragged my mouth over her skin, lower and lower, kissing and biting all the way until my lips covered her pussy. I pushed my tongue inside, atop my fingers. Lap, lap, lap. I licked and shook my head, wiggling my tongue about, then moved up to tease her bud with the tip of my tongue, flicking side to side, swirling round and round, then back to lick and slurp. Mom's hands wound tightly in my hair, alternately between pulling me tighter and pushing me away. She moaned constantly. Finally, her legs closed tightly around my head and her hands tried to pull me inside. She shuddered violently, hips thrusting up, grasping, clutching, then suddenly she collapsed and pushed my head away.

I rose up and looked down to find a sated woman, smiling lazily up at me.

"Where did you learn how to do that?" she asked.

"I wasn't always studying in Europe," I lied.

I pushed Mom's legs apart, and lined my cock up with her garish, pink slit. I leaned forward and let my tip part her lips.

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