Dad's Bowling Night with Mom

Mom pushed her bottom back into my hand, surrendering it to my touch. Elation went through me. Mom was going to let me squeeze her bottom every week! She also spread her legs while keeping a grip on the counter.

My hand went wild for a little while, and then I remembered that I needed to let Mom feel she was in control. "Do you like it best when I squeeze?" I squeezed Mom's bottom. "Or when I rub?" I made a quick circle around Mom's bottom.

"I like both. Don't do the same thing too much. You can rub down the top of my legs, but don't squeeze there."

I moved my hand down the top of the back of Mom's thighs, rubbed for a few moments, and then brought my hand back up for a squeeze. I listened to Mom take deep breaths.

"Would you wear a dress for me next Tuesday?"

"Why should I do that?"

"For me. I think you look prettier in a dress. I want to squeeze your bottom through a dress instead of a skirt."

Mom was quiet for a bit as I continued enjoying her bottom. I pressed firmly in the space between Mom's bottom and her waist and then gently slid my hand a few inches. I slowly worked my hand across the space between Mom's bottom and waist that way. I was trying something new, exploring a new part of her body.

Finally, she said, "I can do that."

I enjoyed Mom's bottom for a few minutes more before she said, "It's time for my show." She stood upright, gathered herself, and then walked away from the sink. A few dishes were still in the rinse water, and I was happy to dry them and put them away.

Before Mom left the kitchen, she turned, pointed her finger, and said firmly, "Not a word to anyone ever."

I raised my hands in a gesture of surrender. "I promise. Never a word."

* * * *

For the next seven days, I worried that Mom would change her mind. I was always full of nervous energy. I found it hard to read. One time, Mom asked why I was pacing. "I'm wondering when I'll hear from Northwestern. I've been accepted by Ohio State, and they want me to tell them that I'm coming."

"Northwestern's application was longer than Ohio State's. It has more to process."

"Or it could be I didn't make the first cut. They might have sent out their first batch of acceptance letters, and they are waiting to see how many people take them up on their acceptance before contacting me."

"You haven't been rejected, and that's good news. You'll just have to wait."

A month ago, I hadn't cared about getting accepted into Northwestern. Now, I wanted it badly. I wanted to make Mom proud of me. I thought it wasn't a coincidence that Mom had let me touch her bottom the first time the day I got the acceptance from Ohio State. What might she do if I got accepted to Northwestern?

But also, I was sick of my classmates. I was sick of them snickering at me when I walked by. Even my classmates who were going to Ohio State seemed to play along with me being called a fairy. I wanted to leave the state now; leave them all behind. Northwestern was my opportunity to do so.

When I got home from school Tuesday, Mom was wearing a cotton pastel yellow dress that had a blue-flower print. Its sleeves came down past her elbows, and the full top had buttons down the front. The buttons drew my eyes to Mom's breasts, which seemed to push the top of the dress far out. The top of the dress narrowed as it moved toward her waist, which was snuggly encompassed by a blue belt. From Mom's waist, the dress spread out generously, running down to halfway between Mom's knees and ankles.

"You look beautiful, Mom."

Mom blushed. "Thank you. It's just a simple dress."

"It looks great on you, Mom. It shows what a great figure you have."

Mom blushed some more. I went into my room and eventually started studying at the dining table. Mom pulled out the vacuum cleaner and started vacuuming. I don't know if it was intentional, but she seemed to spend the whole time vacuuming facing away from me, allowing me to ogle her bottom to my heart's delight. Mom seemed to be embracing the idea that I'd be enjoying her bottom a little later.

Mom was cooking dinner when Dad got home. When he sat down at the dinner table, he noticed that Mom was wearing a dress instead of her usual sweater-and-skirt. "What's with the dress?" he asked as he pointed with his fork. He then dropped his fork down to scoop up some food without waiting for an answer.

"I felt like wearing something different."

Dad didn't respond. Instead, he wolfed down his dinner like he always did on Tuesday nights. Mom told him about her day as he ate, like she normally did. I kept quiet, like I normally did. It didn't take Dad long to finish dinner and then call, "I'm off," but it seemed to take forever.

"I hope he has a good time bowling," said Mom with a small smirk.

"Doesn't he always? Beers and bowling with friends make for a lot of fun."

Mom gave me a small but wicked smile. Dad was going to squeeze Patty Harney's bottom tonight. I had the feeling Mom didn't care for once, as I was going to be squeezing her bottom shortly.

"Anything interesting happen at school today?"

"While I was going to fifth period, I saw Tommy Twiggs and Barbara Totten standing close together and talking."

"Tommy Twiggs? Isn't he a greaser?"

"Very much so." He was always wearing jeans and a leather jacket and had his hair greased up; owned a motorcycle.

"Her mother won't like that news at all."

Mom as usual slowly ate her dinner. It felt far slower than normal, but it probably wasn't. I told her what little gossip I had picked up at school. She filled some of it in with gossip she had heard. She seemed to want to talk about other people being naughty before we got naughty. When she finished her dinner, we cleared the dishes as we normally did. We continued gossiping as we washed the dishes. Once I put the last pot into the rinse water and dried my hands, I reached over to squeeze Mom's bottom. She pushed it out for me as I did so.

"You've been a very good boy this week," said Mom in almost a purr. "No inappropriate comments. No acting oddly. I'm sure your father doesn't suspect a thing. Oh, that feels so good."

Mom steadily dried the dishes and set them on the counter to her right for me to put away later. The whole time, she gyrated her hips as I squeezed and rubbed. The occasional moan made my blood boil.

"You really enjoy being touched like this."

"I do."

"And Dad doesn't do it."

"Not for a long time. He wants to start much further along."

I found it ironic yet sad that Dad was twice a week squeezing other women's bottoms when he had a wife at home who loved having her bottom squeezed.

Once Mom had dried the last dish and had drained the rinse water, she leaned forward to the point where she was almost leaning on the sink so she could really thrust out her bottom. I twisted over and ran both hands over her bottom. Sometimes I squeezed her bottom with both hands, other times I squeezed with one hand while rubbing with the other. After a few minutes of that, she stood up somewhat and put her hands on the counter in front of the sink. I stepped behind her and pulled her back to me, pressing my hard dick gently against her bottom.

Mom said, "Nibble on my neck."

I nibbled on the right side of Mom's neck while putting my hands on the front of her hips and holding her lightly against me. I could have pressed my dick hard into her bottom, but I couldn't muster the courage to do so. Mom maintained her upright position, showing no sign she wanted stronger contract between her bottom and my dick.

After half a minute, Mom turned in my hands. "That was fun." She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. "And you were a very good boy." She raised a finger. "Remember, not a word to anyone and don't act the least bit different."

Mom slipped out of my arms and went into the living room.

My chest was pounding as I watched Mom leave the kitchen. She was amazing. I had seen beautiful actresses in the movies. I had seen the prettiest girls in my school. None of them held a candle to my mom. Our little session had filled me with lust in a way no other girl had done. Two weeks ago after I touched Mom's bottom for the first time, I had felt like touching it again was the only thing I wanted; that touching it would make me completely happy. Now, I wanted much more. I knew it was wrong to want more, but I couldn't help it. I wanted to touch Mom's naked bottom. I wanted to squeeze it with my hands. I wanted to see her breasts, to touch them and suck on them like Aunt Agnes had let Dad do.

But I had no idea how to make that happen.

* * * *

The next Tuesday, I had another plan. It was a lot bolder than my other plan, but I hoped it would work just as well.

When I got home, Mom was wearing a pink dress with a hummingbird print. It was very pretty, very feminine and very ladylike. In the middle of Mom's bust, the fabric split. A narrow "V" went up from there, exposing a tiny triangle of Mom's upper chest. My eyes kept being drawn to there as Mom vacuumed. I'd study for a little bit at the dining table, and then look up to stare at that narrow triangle of light pink skin.

Just before Dad came home, Mom came over to the dining table. She leaned forward, giving me an expanded view of her upper chest. I couldn't see her bra, but what I could see made me suck in my breath. She said commandingly, "Don't look at my chest once your father comes home." And then she went into the kitchen.

I buckled down and studied after that. Mom called Dad and me to dinner. Dad didn't even comment on Mom's dress tonight. He wolfed down his food and was soon gone. Mom and I ate a leisurely dinner. I intentionally ate more slowly than Mom, and I did my best to hold a pleasant conversation with her as we ate.

After dinner, Mom and I moved to the sink. We washed them together as we had the prior week. But this time, when I finished washing all the dishes, I picked up a towel and said, "Let me help you dry. It's almost time for your show."

Mom gave me an almost angry look. She had been expecting me to once again lovingly explore her bottom. "You don't have to. I can be a little late for my show."

"I don't want you to be late for your show," I said as evenly as I could. Butterflies were flapping around in my stomach. Would I ruin everything tonight? "I know how important your show is to you."

Mom gave me a long look and then shrugged. With both of us drying, it didn't take long until all the dishes were put away. I looked at the clock on the wall, and it was a couple of minutes until Mom's show started.

Mom and I went into the living room.

"I'll turn on the radio," I said as I walked toward it.

Mom sat down on the couch. "So have you grown to like my show?"

As I adjusted the radio to the right station, I said, "I like listening to it with you. I wouldn't listen to it by myself."

I stayed by the radio until I heard the theme song for the show. I then moved over to the couch. Mom was sitting on the right side of the couch as I faced it, leaving me room to sit on the left side of the couch. I signaled her to move over as I sat down in the middle of the couch. Mom shifted over close to the right arm of the couch.

I tried to calmly listen to the show. I'd occasionally look over at Mom's dress. I couldn't raise my eyes above the skirt portion. Would this really work?

After the facts of the case had been introduced, the announcer began talking about Lucky Strike cigarettes. Time to put my plan into action.

"Mom, do you remember when I told you that Doris was telling everyone is a lousy kisser? She's still telling everyone that." I shifted to my left to be a little closer to Mom.

"Oh, ignore her. It's just mean gossip she's making up about you."

"What if it's true, Mom? What if I am a lousy kisser?" I shifted closer to her again. She moved right up next to the arm of the couch.

"I'm sure you're a fine kisser," Mom said at a slightly higher pitch than normal.

"Teach me how to kiss, Mom. We could practice kissing during your show."

"What? No. I shouldn't be kissing my son."

The voice of the detective came back on. I turned toward Mom. I had her pinned against the arm of the couch. Her eyes went wide as I moved my lips toward hers. I planted a kiss on Mom's lips. Mom struggled and pushed me gently back.

"Relax and listen to your show, Mom. You don't want to miss a single detail."

Mom pushed back on me once again and then relaxed. She let me press my lips against her. She didn't actively kiss me back, but she didn't fight my kisses. I gave Mom a series of slow kisses, with small breaks between each one. It was how I had kissed Doris.

When the announcer began saying how everything a family needed was in the Sears-Roebuck catalog, Mom pushed me away.

"What were you thinking?" She asked indignantly. "You should never kiss your mother like that."

"When I get to Northwestern, I don't want all the girls to think I'm some hayseed from the sticks who's a lousy kisser. Do you?"

"Well..." That threw Mom off her stride.

"No girl around here is going to kiss me. Not with everyone at school saying I'm a fairy. And I want to be a good kisser." I shifted so I could use my hands to talk. "Look, Mom. You did a great job of teaching me how to make the first move on a girl after we've been kissing for a while. But those lessons will go to waste unless you teach me how to kiss. Before I try to touch a girl's bottom, I have to kiss her long enough and well enough that she wants me to take that step, right?"

"Yes, that's right, but..."

The detective came back on, calling to his strong but slightly dim partner. Mom instantly swiveled her head toward the radio. I took the opportunity to move in to kiss Mom again. Not passion kisses. Short, gentle kisses that wouldn't distract her too much from her show.

Mom resisted for only a brief moment before relaxing. After a while, she started to kiss me back.

When the announcer launched into a different pitch for Lucky Strikes, I pulled back from Mom.

"Fine," she said somewhat angrily. "I'll teach you how to kiss. I don't want the girls at Northwestern to think you're some hayseed from the sticks who's a lousy kisser."

I let out a small sigh of relief.

Mom held out her palm while flattening and stiffening it. She then pressed it against my arm. "You don't want your lips to be like that. Your lips are too hard, and you're pressing them too hard." Mom cupped her palm and lightly squeezed my arm with it. "Your lips should be like that. Soft. Gentle. You want to feel my lips with yours."

The slightly dim partner came on to announce that he had found something. I moved toward Mom. She offered no resistance this time as we kissed. I focused on my lips, making them as soft as I could. I paid attention to Mom's lips, trying to feel their location with mine. Again, I kissed her for like five seconds, took a small break, and kissed her again, over and over as we listened to the new developments in the case.

Mom grabbed my hand and placed it on the right side of her stomach. I gave it a gentle squeeze...

There was a knock on the front door.

I jumped off the couch. It was probably some friend or neighbor. What should I do? Should I go sit on the opposite end of the couch from Mom? Should I go to my books on the dining table? Should I go to my room?

Mom got up, straightened herself, and moved toward the door. I decided to go sit at the dining table and act like I was studying. Mom watched me move and opened the door once I was seated.

"Florence!" My mom cried happily. "It's so good to see you." Florence, our next-door neighbor stepped into our house. "What brings you over this evening?"

Florence held out a measuring cup. "I'm doing some baking and didn't have enough sugar. Can I borrow some?"

"Sure." Mom moved toward in front of the couch. "Would you mind waiting for the next commercial break?"

"No, not at all."

Mom and Florence sat down on the couch and listened to Mom's show. I was so angry as I sat at the dining room table. My plan had been working so great until Florence had shown up. I had been kissing Mom, and she was kissing me back.

When the announcer came on, Mom and Florence went into the kitchen. The whole time they were in the kitchen, I muttered quietly, "Leave! Leave! Leave!"

But Florence didn't leave. Once Mom's show was over, she turned off the radio, and Florence made no move toward the door. Instead, she stayed on the couch and started telling Mom a story about one of their other neighbors.

Mom said, "Jack, why don't you go to your room?" She didn't want me to hear her and Florence gossip.

I gathered my school stuff and moped to my room. Everything had been going so well. I was so close...to what exactly I wasn't sure. But I knew I had been close to it before Florence had shown up. And now? Who knows? Would Mom have second thoughts about kissing me? Would she say that she had given me enough of a lesson? I wanted to pull my hair out.

* * * *

I spent the next two days thinking about kissing Mom on the couch. When she put my hand on her, did she intend for me to move it up to her breast? Or back to her bottom? Or something else? It had felt great to have my hand on her like that, and then everything was over a few seconds later. Over those two days, Mom gave me no sign of what she thought of Tuesday night.

Thursday afternoon, I decided I'd ask Mom while Dad was at the bar Friday night what were her thoughts about what we had done on Tuesday night. Then at dinner Thursday night, Mom announced, "The Andersons are getting a TV tomorrow." She made that sound like an accusation. "Ethel has invited me to come over after they have it working." Mom flicked her hand toward Dad. "You'll have to rustle up some grub on your own after you get home from the bar." She said more softly to me. "You'll have to make yourself a sandwich."

Dad half-mumbled, "I don't see the big deal about TVs". Mom glared at him. "The screens are so small. It's nothing like seeing a movie."

"You don't have to leave your house to watch TV," said Mom angrily. "While you're bowling or at a bar or a poker game, I could watch the TV by myself. I'm not going to go to a theater all by myself."

From the way Mom delivered those lines and how Dad reacted to them, I had the feeling that they had had this argument before.

The rest of dinner was quiet.

* * * *

Tuesday when I got home from school, Mom was wearing her usual sweater and skirt. My heart fell. I had pushed too far the prior week, and now we were going back to how we were before.

I set up my books on the dining table, but couldn't get into studying. When Mom started vacuuming, I didn't watch her like I had. Mostly, I kept my head down and felt sad for myself.

Once Dad had wolfed down his dinner and left, Mom asked sternly, "Did you tell anyone that you kissed me last week?"

"What? No, Mom. I haven't told anyone."

"Good. A mother and son shouldn't kiss like we did last week. Before you kissed me, you should have told me that you would never tell anyone that we had kissed."

I wrinkled my brow. This is not how I expected our conversation about us kissing would go. "Mom, I promise to never tell anyone about us kissing. Or my touching your bottom. Not my friends and certainly not Dad. It'll always be a secret just between the two of us. I'll go to my grave without telling anyone about it."

Mom nodded her head and continued eating. I ate along with her, wondering what she was thinking about. Now, I realized it was stupid of me to have not assured her of the secrecy of our kissing as she had made such a big deal about secrecy before. Mom didn't seem offended that I had kissed her, and I was thankful for that. Would she let me kiss her again? I had no idea. But I resolved to let Mom make the decision on whether we'd kiss again.