"Pet Mommy": Becoming a Mommy-Slut!

bysilkstockingslover©

Instantly he was sheepish. "No."

"Why not?" I asked, "You are a great catch."

"Girls in high school don't think that," he sighed, continuing to massage my right stocking-clad foot.

"You are smart, sweet and very handsome," I complimented, slyly.

"You have to say that, you are my Mom," he pointed out, not taking my sincere compliment.

"Don't you do that," I said, scolding him.

"Do what?" he asked, startled by my sudden change in tone.

"Put yourself down," I said, moving my foot away and leaning into him for a hug, my hand accidentally landing directly on his stiff cock. My son's eyes went wide, but I didn't move my hand as I leaned in and whispered, slightly seductively, "You look just like your father and he was the sexiest man I ever met. You have the same eyes, the same smile and," I gave a gentle squeeze to his fully erect cock, "apparently you inherited something else from your dad."

Before he could respond, I kissed him on the lips quickly and stood up. Brushing my skirt back down, I said, "Thanks honey, your hands felt amazing on my aching soles, but now I am going for a shower." I started to walk away before pausing, turning around and pointing to his crotch, "you probably should look after that. I think it is about to burst."

My son stared at me in stunned silence as I left him high and hard.

For the second straight day, my shower head and I became very intimate as I continued thinking about the completion of my plan.

**********

The next morning, I was dressed in a black skirt, a white blouse and beige thigh high stockings when Michael joined me for breakfast. We chatted casually about school until I stood up and said, "Dammit, I have a run in my stocking." I put my leg on the chair right beside my very captivated son, and slid the stocking down my leg. My son's eyes watched the entire removal. Changing legs, I took off the second stocking complaining, "I don't have any more in this color, so I guess I'm going shopping before my first showing." I kissed my son on the forehead and left the stockings on the chair as bait, leaving him alone as I headed out.

I waited five minutes and returned to the house hoping to catch him. As expected, he was pumping away on his big cock, with one of my stockings on his cock. I watched for a minute before walking in from behind and saying, "I forgot my purse, Michael."

He quickly pulled up his pants and stammered, "Oh my god, Mom, I am so-so-so sorry."

Hiding the growing desire to grab his cock, I replied, flirtation dripping in every syllable I spoke, "Oh honey, it is ok, masturbating is natural, I assume you did it last night. Actually, truth be told, I did it myself last night...twice."

"Mom!" he gasped, still frantically fumbling to get his pants on, my stocking still on his cock.

"And feel free to keep my stockings if that is your thing," I offered with a coy smile.

"Mom!" he repeated, still humiliated to be caught in the act by his mom.

"You have a stocking fetish too?" I asked, with a sexy smile on my face. "You really are just like your father," I said, grabbing my purse and leaving before he had time to respond.

I drove away, knowing another seed had been planted.

I returned home after lunch, flipped open his computer, went to the Literotica website and opened the story Making Mommy Mine. I left it on that story and returned to work, leaving giving yet one more tease for my son.

A long day of showings, including two last minute additions, meant I did not get home till after seven. I came in, slipped out of my heels, went upstairs and knocked on Michael's door.

I heard a very nervous voice say, "Come in."

I entered and sat on the edge of his bed and rubbed my stocking-clad feet. I wasn't even lying when I said, "My feet are killing me."

He was staring at my perfectly manicured feet and red toenails, unable to make eye contact with me.

I asked sweetly, "Michael, could you please massage my feet again, like you did yesterday?"

"S-s-sure, Mom," he stammered, standing up.

"Come to Mommy," I beckoned, my finger calling him over and my tone dripping with sultry seduction.

He shyly obeyed.

I moved up on his bed to lie on his pillows and ordered, as I patted the bed, "Come join me on the bed."

He did, never once making eye contact with me. He sat at the end of his bed and took my right foot in his hands and began massaging me. My legs were parted more than yesterday and if he looked up he would get a very clear look of my black panties...which after only a few seconds he did. He quickly looked away flustered. Over the next couple of minutes, he continued to take quick peeks between my legs as he continued the massage, his face redder than hell itself. I purposely would open and close my legs slightly to distract him. As he switched feet, I asked, "So, how was school today?"

He sighed, "Boring as usual."

"Any hotties on the horizon?"

"Not even on the radar," he replied, his confidence still non-existent.

"Why not?" I asked, letting out a soft moan from his massage, adding, "you sure have the magic touch with your hands."

Surprised by the compliment, he stammered, "R-r-really?"

"Yes really, you have me so relaxed now," I said, allowing another moan to escape my lips.

Just then my cell phone rang and I cursed to myself. I grabbed it and was asked if I could show a house in twenty minutes. I agreed and sighed, reluctantly getting up and saying, "Did you know that tomorrow is Nude Day?"

"It is?" he asked.

"Yep. I wonder how average people celebrate Nude Day?" I asked, my smile implying something naughty.

"I-um-I don't know," he answered, clearly rattled by the odd question.

At the door, I paused and asked, "While I am gone, why don't you check that Literotica site and read some of those contest stories and see what regular people do."

His mouth dropped like it would hit the floor, and I turned and left, a new plan formulating in my mind.

**********

The next day, I scheduled myself off from 3 o'clock on, declining a 4 o'clock showing, determined to finish seducing my son. I got home, showered, dressed in only white thigh highs and an apron to cover my freshly shaved cunt, and started cleaning the house. At 4 o'clock, I put the casserole in the oven and was just making a salad when Michael came home. When he walked in the kitchen, he froze as he stared at me, my voluptuous breasts barely concealed by the apron. I asked, "Did you know what today is?"

He paused, trying to comprehend the strange sight of his mother almost naked. "Um...."

I explained, "It is Nude Day."

"There is a Nude Day?" he asked, still processing.

"Yes there is silly," I flirted, before adding, "Michael, you are eighteen and old enough to celebrate Nude Day with your Mother. So all clothing is forbidden."

Silence lingered for a while until he stammered, "M-m-mom, this is weird."

I pouted, drawing him in, "Don't you want to celebrate Nude Day with me? Or is your Mother to old?"

He stammered, "N-n-no home that is not it. It is just strange."

"Is it?" I shrugged. "I find it very liberating. It has been years since I went without panties." I quickly lifted the apron to give him a quick flash of my pussy.

"B-b-but you are my M-m-mom," he said, still trying to wrap his head around what was happening, his bulging pants already revealing the impact my body had on him.

"And you are my son. I have seen you naked many times, baby," I rationalized, before adding in my Motherly do-as-you-are-told tone, "Now get undressed, Michael."

"But you are wearing nylons," he pointed out.

"I did that for you." I smiled, walking over to him and kissing his cheek. "Like your father, you clearly have a thing for stockings."

I pulled his shirt over his head and offered, "Unless you want me to completely follow the rules and take the thigh highs off."

"N-n-no, k-k-keep them on," he stammered, shivering at my touch.

"Your wish is my command," I teased, unbuckling his pants, hinting at my submissive nature. He seemed to be holding his breath, so I reminded him, "Breathe, baby, breathe," as I allowed his pants to fall to the floor. His big hard cock was not completely held in by his very unflattering tighty-whities. "We have definitely got to get you some new underwear."

He nodded, unable to speak a word.

"Oh my, Michael, is that because of me?" I asked, my hand going to his cock.

"Oh God," he moaned and went even stiffer the instant my hand brushed his cock.

As I pulled down his underwear, his beautiful cock flopped into the open, giving me the eight inch salute. It took every ounce of my will power to not devour his cock then and there, but I wanted to make him wait a bit longer.

I stood up and went back to finish cutting the salad veggies. Michael hadn't moved an inch since I undressed him so I asked, "Can you pour us some wine?"

"Wine?" he asked.

"Today is a special day, Michael, you can have some wine," I smiled, my tone implying I was soon going to create his very own Literotica story.

He did as instructed, while I finished the salad and pulled the casserole out of the oven. I noticed Michael taking quick glimpses at me every time he could, desperately trying not to be obvious, when he was actually being the exact opposite. I suggested, "Michael, take a seat as Mommy gets your dinner ready."

He sat down and I brought him his plate. I went back and grabbed mine, and after putting my plate on the table, I took off the last piece of fabric that was hiding my breasts and just trimmed pussy. As expected, Michael stared, his mouth open, literally watering. I sat down and began eating and created conversation as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

"So Michael, anything exciting happen at school today?"

Trying to act nonchalant himself, he responded, "Aced my Calculus test."

"Excellent," I smiled. "You are such a good student and such a perfect child."

"Oh Mom," he said embarrassed, the crimson hue rising to his cheeks.

"Seriously, half the teenagers today are drinking, doing drugs, failing school and having sex, but you are a good boy, aren't you?" I asked, my tone demure.

"Yes, because I am a loser," he pointed out, not insulting himself, but just stating the social hierarchy of high school.

"Well, Bill Gates was a loser too, based on your theory," I pointed out, before adding, "most of the so called cool kids in high school end up peaking in high school and doing nothing with their lives."

"You were cool," my son pointed out.

"I'm not now?" I pouted, luring him in.

"Y-y-you are still," he stammered, desperate to rectify any implied insult, "I-I-I just meant, you are successful even though you were cool in high school."

"Aaaah thanks, sexy," I replied warmly, as he blushed at being called sexy, "but I am still successful partly because of my looks and not because of academic prowess like you will be."

"I hope you are right," he said, letting out a soft sigh that implied he wasn't convinced I was right.

"Plus," I added, the seduction moving forward at full throttle, "once the girls see your fucking cock you will have to beat them off with a stick."

"Mom!" Michael replied shocked.

Continuing my sexual flattery, I added, "You heard the saying it isn't the size that counts."

"Yeah," he answered, confused by my intent.

"That is bullshit and said by nice girls to keep up the egos of insecure guys with small peckers," I announced.

"Jesus Christ, Mom," he said, clearly bewildered by the conversation.

"Trust me," I continued, "I have had a wide variety of cocks, but your Dad's was the biggest and the best and your cock is bigger than his."

"I can't believe you are talking about my penis," he said.

"It's a cock, son. A big, and I am guessing, still really hard cock." I smiled, standing up. "Stiff," I continued moving closer, "cock," I finished, reaching him.

He stared at me speechless. Standing above him, in a position of authority, I changed the subject and started asking a few rhetorical questions.

"So you like erotic sex stories, don't you my son?"

He attempted to speak, but I interrupted his stammer, placing my finger to his lips, my big tits just inches above him, my slightly wet pussy directly in front of him.

"And you particularly like erotic stories about sons and mommies, don't you son?"

My hand reached down and wrapped gently around his, as expected, erect ready to burst cock.

"And you seem to have a rather major fascination with stockings too, don't you?" I stood back up, reluctantly letting go off his cock and placing my right foot on his leg, which also gave him a very clear, close-up-and-personal, look at his Mommy's cunt. "Do you like my thigh highs, Michael?"

So stunned, he couldn't even complete the sentence as the sexual attack on his senses overwhelmed him. "I-I-um-I-I-well-I...."

I grabbed his hand and put it on my leg. "Go ahead, son, feel Mommy's stockings."

He obeyed, obsessed, like a kitten with a string, by the silky feeling.

I moaned, "Mmmmm, Michael, your hand feels so nice on Mommy's legs."

A moment later, I put my foot back down and jumped up onto the kitchen table. He looked at me and watched as both my stocking-clad feet, reached his stiff missile. 'Stand by, Houston,' I thought, 'we have liftoff.' He shook at my touch and I, without a word, began to give him a foot job. My legs bent as they were, my trimmed pussy was staring my stunned son in the face, a gaping invitation if there ever was one.

As I slowly moved my stockinged feet up and down on my son's cock, he closed his eyes and apparently let his long held fantasy come true. In less than a minute, he moaned and warned, "Mom, I am going to come."

I purred, like the predator I was, "Come for Mommy, baby, come all over Mommy's stockinged feet. I wore them just for you, baby...everything tonight is just for you."

Simultaneously as I finished speaking, his white goo shot up in the air and most of it landed on my stockings, the rest on the kitchen table and floor. I continued the slow foot masturbation of my son until the last speck of cum was released.

I asked, my voice still syrupy sweet, "Did you like that, baby?"

Michael finally opened his eyes and looked into mine. "T-t-that was amazing, Mom."

"It's Mommy, Michael, isn't that what you want? A full-service Mommy?" I asked, lifting my foot to my mouth and retrieving my son's cum from my foot.

My son's mouth was again wide open in shock, as he watched the obscene act.

"Fuck, you taste delicious," I smiled, switching feet and retrieving more of his cum, before eventually saying, "Actually, I would love to get from directly from the source."

I fell to my knees as my son watched me take his cock in my mouth.

"Oh God," he let out the instant my warm mouth swallowed completely his still erect cock. It had been a long time since I had a teenager, since being a teenager myself, and was grateful for their quick recovery time.

I bobbed slowly up and down on his cock for a couple of minutes before taking his cock out of my mouth and saying, "Oh, I missed some." Continuing to set up the opportunity for him to take control, I leaned to the ground and licked his cum off the floor.

My son, finally catching on it seemed, said, with a confidence I had never heard from him, except for the time I watched him jerk off about me, "Mom, you missed some on the kitchen table."

A smile crossed my lips at the shift in him as I sat back up, still on my knees and looked at the table. Seeing some white goo, I asked, "Does Michael want Mommy to clean up his cum?"

"Yes," he replied, although not with the aggressiveness I had hoped.

I looked at him and said, my hand back on his stiff missile, "Mommy needs directions. Please tell Mommy what you want. She promises to obey every command like a good Mommy, a very obedient Mommy, a pet Mommy like in those stories."

He looked into my eyes, something he had avoided most of the evening, and said, "Clean up my cum, Mommy."

I instantly obeyed, using only my tongue at first to retrieve his white seed. I finished my sucking it up with my lips before turning back to him and asking, my voice as submissive as humanly possible, "Mmmmmmm, did I do good?"

A smile crossed his face for the first time as he finally realized the complete implications of what had just occurred and what I was literally offering him. He asked, slightly hesitant, wanting a final declaration before proceeding (he always was a linear boy) "You really want to be my Mommy-slut?"

I looked up from my submissive position and answered, "I want to be whatever you want me to be."

"Really?" he asked, still trying to accept his good fortune.

"Give me a command," I suggested.

He paused as if he was just given three wishes from a genie and really had to think about what he wanted. "Masturbate," he ordered, with a vague resemblance of confidence.

Without hesitation, still on my knees, I moved my left hand to my eager pussy and fulfilled his command.

He watched from his position of new-found power his mind clearly moving a mile a minute at the possibilities. I let out a moan, the sensation of obedience bringing enhanced pleasure and asked, "Can Mommy come, son or does my big boy have other plans for his Mommy?"

He was still clearly coming to terms with the amazing reality that this wasn't a wet dream or some computer-driven fantasy. I looked up at him like a lost puppy looking for directions, desperately attempting to guide him in what we both needed: me a dominant man, and him a woman to learn from. My moans increased and I warned, "Son, Mommy's cunt is getting really wet, I can't hold back much longer."

The last brick in the wall of resistance shattered, I watched as my son stood up, pulled me up and onto the table and, without a word, took was now rightfully his as he buried his face in my hot lava box. Instantly, I moaned, as my inexperienced son licked my already sticky wet pussy lips. Obviously being his first time, he was a bit rough and all over the place. I moaned, "That feels good baby. Part Mommy's lips with your tongue, baby."

He obeyed the instructions and on his own accord slowed down. For the next couple of minutes he continued to lick my pussy lips bringing a constant teasing sensation to me. I moaned, "Is this your first time eating pussy, baby?"

He nodded, but didn't quit what he was doing, clearly enthralled by the taste of my cunt. Every man I had ever been with and the two girls in college had always commented on my unique, sweet tasting pussy, although he would have nothing currently to compare it to.

"Well, you are a natural, baby," I purred, adding, "do you want to help Mommy come?"

"Yes," he mumbled, his tongue refusing to leave my snatch.

"Take my clit into your mouth, baby," I requested, "swallow it whole." Again he obeyed, and the minute my swollen needy clit was in his mouth I screamed, "Oh God fuck, son, now lick Mommy's clit, suck it hard, make Mommy come." He increased the pressure and my moans became louder as my inevitable orgasm began to rise. "Oh God, son. Make Mommy your slut, make me come and I am yours unconditionally, baby. Is that what you want, son? Your very own Mommy-sluuuuuuut," I screamed, as he surprised me by sliding two fingers without warning deep inside me. Like a veteran pussy pleaser, he hooked his fingers inside me and found my g-spot in seconds. On contact, I wailed and my legs stiffened.

The mixture of the pleasure of having my g-spot tapped like a drum, mixed with the long ignored desire of submission, twisted with the reality of the taboo incestuous act I was willingly committing and I was a bundle of goo in seconds and babbling like a teenage slut. "Oh God Michael, you got Mommy, you got Mommy, oh fuck, oh fuck, yes Michael, uh, ah, uuuuuuuuuh, fuuuuuuck, Mommy's coming baaaaaaby, don't stoooooop," I screamed, grabbing my son's head to add even more pleasure on my exploding cunt. It was easily the best, most intense, toe tingling, leg stiffing, cunt dripping, mind numbing orgasm I had ever experienced. Pleasure pulsed through my very being and I knew in this brief moment of euphoria, what Heaven feels like: a brief moment of acceptance of what I had just done and what I knew I would be doing over and over.

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