French Maid Mom

French Maid Mom

"You've got to be joking? I can't wear that."

"Now come on Mom, you lost the bet and you promised to wear any fancy dress outfit I chose."

"Yes, but look,.........it's so indecent. You can't expect me to........."

"No it's not indecent. It's just a French maid's costume. It's just a bit of fun."

"No, Darren, please, don't make me."

"Well you should have thought about that when you made that bet......besides you've got a great figure, you'll look sensational in it."

"But Darren, I'm your mom, not one of those playboy models."

"You are better than a playboy model."

"Stop trying to get round me, it's no good."

"So you're going to welch on the bet, is that it?"

"I didn't say that.....and stop giving me so much wine. Your dad wouldn't approve."

"Dad's not here to approve, or disapprove," I said, topping up her glass yet again.

The truth was, I was desperate to see my mom in that costume, because, even in her late thirties she was a blonde stunner with a great figure and long shapely legs that made you silently whistle every time you saw them.

Fortunately, Dad was away on secondment in Springfield, having to temporarily manage a new branch of the Company he worked for. That left me alone with Mom in Cincinnati and I couldn't have been happier. At present, I was doing my best to lead her astray and, at the same time, brighten up her dull life. And, I have to say she was having a great time, as we spent a lot of time together, dancing to rock music, watching movies and having a lot of laughs. Also, we were getting though a fair amount of wine each night and doing a bit of gambling. Mom liked a little bet, particularly, when it involved money or forfeits.

Dad, of course, being such a solid straight-laced dull sort of chap didn't approve of such things. So, whenever we did anything like that, we kept it well hidden from him. Every day, we'd bet on the horses, baseball games and anything else that came along. From our net winnings, we had a couple of meals out and bought more wine. I should stress that we are talking about relatively small amounts of money here. Her own strict upbringing and the way she had brought me up, meant that we knew the value of money and would never risk losing large amounts. It was just good fun and put a bit of sparkle into our lives. I got the impression that she had a better time with me than she ever had with Dad.

Anyway, the previous night, she had foolishly entered into a bet with me on the outcome of a TV quiz question. She had lost and I was determined to make her honour her commitment of having to wear any item of fancy dress that I chose for her. I had got the idea from a website, featuring saucy uniforms on women in the M.I.L.F. category, that I had seen some weeks earlier. The images had stuck with me and I had day-dreamed of Mom in some of the sexier costumes. It was a great idea for a forfeit.

So, the following morning, I had spent a good 2 hours trawling around the shopping mall, until, I found an outfit that would be sexy and revealing. And, when I did, I got really excited as I imagined her in it, showing off her superb body. But, I never imagined then that buying that French maid outfit was to have such a dramatic effect on both our lives. It had cost me the best part of 50 dollars but it was well worth the expense.

After a another glass of wine, she began to soften.

"And you promise that you won't tell anyone if I put that thing on," she slurred. "Especially, don't tell your dad."

That request reminded me of what a prude my dad was and I knew exactly what she meant. He would have been shocked and angry to see his wife of 17 years put on sexy clothing like that. I suppose it was his careful religious background that made him so narrow minded

"You know better than that," I said earnestly, "there's no way I would tell him our little secrets." At the same time I said it, my hope soared that she would actually put it on.

"You'll look really great in it" I assured her once again.

She held it up against herself. "It's a bit short," she complained.

"It was the only maid's outfit they had," I lied. "Besides, you've got the legs for it."

Mom loved little complements like that, and deep down, I had the feeling she was just itching to see what she looked like in the sexy outfit.

"O.K." she finally said. "A bet is a bet, so I'll do it this one time. Just give me a few minutes to get changed."

With that, she grabbed the costume and hurried up the stairs to her bedroom. Meanwhile, I poured myself another drink and prepared myself for the biggest treat of my young life.

The minutes dragged by as I frequently checked my watch. It was getting late and she had been away for a good half hour. How long was she going to be?

While waiting, I got to thinking about mom and the private conversation between her and her sister that I had recently overheard. Although loyal to her husband, she'd had her fair share of marriage problems. But, more interesting to me was the news that their sex life was very much dead in the water. I had also learned that she had been a sexually frustrated woman for some time. This fuelled my hopes that our own relationship could get more intimate.

In fact, why she chose to marry my dad in the first place was a puzzle. He was quite a few years older than her with a young child to bring up. And, after all, with her outstanding looks and figure, she must have had lots of suitors chasing after her when she was younger.

However all that was a long time ago.

Then, finally, just as I was beginning to think that she had changed her mind, she appeared in the doorway and almost blew my mind. She looked so sexy, it was unbelievable.

"What do you think?" She purred, twirling round to show herself off. "Wow!" was all I could say. She looked sensational.

As she stood there, I took in the outstanding benefits of the scanty uniform. First of all there was the short dark skirt with a little white hem at the bottom. Also, there were white hold-up stockings which left generous amounts of smooth, silky, bare thigh on show. In addition, I observed the equally eye catching low cut white top that pushed her large breasts up and out, leaving a generous cleavage and a bare midriff.

Incredibly, she had also piled her blonde hair on the top of her head, like a French maid would do, to match the provocative nature of the outfit. Again....Wow!

As I feasted my eyes on my sexily clad mother, she stood there posing prettily. "You like it, monsieur?" she teased. Suddenly, I knew that I would be wanking myself in bed, just thinking about how she looked right now. She was 39 looking like 25 and I told her so.

"Do you really think so?" She enthused.

She went to admire herself in the full length hall mirror and I realised for the first time that SHE was taken with the costume. She loved it. It fit her perfectly and she knew herself, without being told, that she looked amazing in it.

Then, I remembered how Mom just loved clothes and dressing up. Dad was so mean these days, that there was very little chance of her going on a spending spree for new clothes. So tonight, she was enjoying herself. She was also a frustrated actress and many a night when I had been younger, I remembered her stories of how she had been involved in amateur dramatics and had tried to make a career out of it. Sadly, none of her little dreams had worked out and she ended up as a shop assistant in a departmental store.

"Can you do a French accent, Mom?" I asked, on a sudden impulse.

"But, of course," she shot back in a sultry voice, heavy with a sexy French accent. It was so effective and in keeping with the saucy outfit she was wearing that, almost immediately, I started to get a serious hard-on.

"Can, I keep it?" She asked preening herself in the mirror again.

"Yes, of course you can, mom, it's a present for you," I emphasised. "Wear it whenever you want."

And as often as you want, I thought.

She twirled in front of the mirror again showing once again that she was absolutely besotted with how she looked in the sexy little outfit.

"Well, we'll see," she said, thoughtfully, as she eventually flounced out of the room and up the stairs.

"Goodnight, Darren," she called when she was half way up.

"Goodnight Brigitte, I countered, "see you tomorrow."

I heard her stop on the stairs and let out the most delightful peel of laughter. Obviously, she liked the French name I had conjured up for her. Then she climbed the rest of the stairs and closed her bedroom door.

I suppose you think it's unusual and perverted that a 19 year old youth should lust after his mom the way I did. She had been my mother since I was 2 years old, but, I had always been smitten with her. I suppose I first noticed her in the sexual sense when I was about 14 and beginning to be more aware of the opposite sex. I started to like blondes and there was no better example of a blonde than my own mom. God, what a slender and curvaceous figure she had with her contest winning legs, great tits and plenty of sexy curves. Also, I loved the way she wore her hair, whether it was flowing down past her shoulders or piled up high on her head. She just knocked me out.

About that time, I started to look at girly magazines, mostly the ones that were passed around at college or left in the boy's toilets. The ones I liked best were those that were mostly softcore, where you got to see lots of tits, panties and stockings. Then, I remembered one day in particular when I observed my mom putting on her stockings. She didn't notice me standing in the darkened hallway looking in through her partly open door, so she just carried on with her seductive routine. I just stood there, opened mouthed, admiring her long shapely legs and the way her dark stockings contrasted with her bare creamy thighs. Then, she stood up and walked to her wardrobe and I saw that she was wearing black bra and panties. I was so gobsmacked that when she turned and went to close her door she caught me red handed ogling her. But, as I stood there red faced and guilty, she just smiled sadly, shook her head knowingly and closed the door.

The incident was never mentioned and she carried on as if nothing had happened. And, of course, there were many such little incidents over the years since, either seeing her in her bedroom in various stages of undress or spying on her in the bathroom. I'm ashamed to say I stooped to watching her through the keyhole on many occasions, or accidentally on purpose caught her as she came out of the bathroom with just a towel clutched to her body. Best of all, I liked it when she dressed up in a nice dress to go out and wore her best perfume. Man, she was something.

I must tell you that as I got older, I started to realise that she was by far the most attractive and sexy mom in our neighbourhood. It was also obvious that all my pals were knocked out by her. At first, when I heard their crude comments, I got angry and sometimes ended up having a fight. But, later, when I got a bit older, I just shrugged and smiled. They were jealous of me, of course, and I suppose, in a way, they were also paying mom a huge complement.

Anyway, I digress. So let's get back to my story.

The next morning, I slept in somewhat; probably because it took me a long time to get to sleep, thinking about how Mom looked in the outfit I had bought for her. I had a quick shower and hurriedly put on some clothes to get downstairs and have some breakfast. But, when I stepped into the kitchen, I got the biggest shock of my life. There was Mom, dressed in the maid's uniform and cooking up some bacon and scrambled eggs for my breakfast.

My mouth just dropped open in surprise. "Mom, what are you doing?" I gasped.

She turned and gave me a studied look. Then the heavy French accent she had used last night came into play, "What am I doing? I am Brigitte, the new maid, surely you know that, young Sir."

"Your mom has gone out for a while, but, she instructed me to prepare breakfast for you."

She said it with a straight face

So, I watched with an amused expression on my face as Brigitte hurried and scurried around the kitchen. Then she laid the table and served up my breakfast. What was so nice about it was that I got to ogle Mom's lovely figure all over again, especially, when she turned her back on me and bent over the sink.

As she put my breakfast plate down in front of me, I cheekily slid my hand up her stockinged leg. Amazingly, she stood still as my hand went higher and I sighed with pleasure as it reached the soft creamy bare skin of her upper thigh. She moved away quickly, before my hand went anywhere else. Then she turned and waved her finger at me in admonishment. "Naughty, naughty," she cried. "You must behave yourself, yes?"

Again, she was speaking with that sexy French accent.

The feel of Mom's delicious bare silky thigh rocked my world. It was further than I had ever got with her before. In the past, she pushed away any attempt by me to put my hands where I shouldn't. When I did so, I usually got a withering look or a slap across my wrists. Oh, she knew I wanted to touch her alright. I mean I tried often enough. She was well aware of me looking at her legs or at her bosom, in the house, in the car, whenever I got the chance. I could tell that she didn't approve, although she never referred to it or got annoyed with me. But now, I could see already that this French maid thing was reaping dividends. It was as if she could detach herself from the mother-son relationship by pretending to be someone else. The way she was enthusiastically getting into her new role looked very promising indeed.

She turned and started to wash some crockery in the sink and silently I kneeled down the floor and crept up behind her. Ooh La- La! What a view I got of her shapely ass. All she seemed to be wearing was the briefest black thong which disappeared down the crack of her bum. I crawled forward and planted a wet kiss high on her flesh, underneath her little skirt.

Mom reacted in shock, but, to her credit, still managed to retain her role of Brigitte. "Ooh you naughty boy," she cooed." I think perhaps you cannot leave Brigitte alone, yes?"

"You're so delectable, Brigitte," I sighed, "it's so hard for a horny young man like me to keep his hands off you."

"Oh, is that so," she pouted, "So what is it exactly that you find so attractive about me? What do you think is my best feature?"

"Everything," I sighed. "First of all, you are so pretty with your blue eyes and blonde hair. Then there are your long shapely legs and womanly curves. And last, but not least, are your magnificent breasts. To put it in a nutshell, you're irresistible."

Mom, or rather Brigitte, chuckled. "Oh yes, I know all about you American boys and your flattery."

"Well then Brigitte," I whispered, "how's about you and me going upstairs for a bit of slap and tickle before mom comes back."

She turned and waved her finger to and fro in front of my face

"No, No, no," she said. "I have my reputation to think of. And, what is more your mother would fire me in an instant if we were caught."

I tried to work that one out in my head and failed. I was going round in circles. Creating Brigitte seemed a masterstroke at the time, but It looked like going nowhere.

The next morning, however, I woke up late after a troubled night and found a note on my bedside table. It was from Mom and read:-

"I am going away for a little break, as its ages since I last had a holiday. Don't worry, because I'll be back in time to greet your dad when he returns from Springfield.

Meanwhile, Brigitte will be there to look after you and keep you company."

"Uuurgh? What?".....I read it again. And was still reading it when I heard a woman's voice call out. An unmistakable voice with a French accent.

"Darren, are you coming down for breakfast?"

I slipped on my dressing gown and hurried downstairs. This I had to see.

And yes, there was Mom dressed in her maid's uniform, frying eggs. I had to rub my eyes.

"Over easy?" she asked, "with the eggs? That's what you Americans say, right?"

"Sure Mom, I mean Brigitte, that's how I like my eggs."

"Ah, yes, your mom? She has gone on a little vacation. Did you not see her note?"

"Urm yes, I saw it."

"So it's just you and me.......on our own. Yes?"

"I guess."

"O.K I have to make the meals and carry out my household duties, but later, we can also have a little fun and some hanky panky, yes?"

I nodded eagerly, things were definitely going in the right direction now.

Unfortunately, I had to rush off to College, but it was hard going because all I could think about was Mom in the maids outfit back at home and what she had said to me at breakfast.

As I sat in the lecture hall, I wasn't listening to the lecturer, because, I was fantasising what it was going to be like at home with Brigitte. Finally, I had worked it out about the note from Mom. She, as "Mom" was going away. She, as Brigitte was staying at home. It was her way of keeping her son at arm's length in a relationship, but, enabling her to get closer as the maid. At least that was what I was hoping. How closer? I was yet to find out, but, the words "fun and hanky panky" were a dead give-away......or so I hoped. In any case, I couldn't wait to get home and see what was going to happen.

I checked the time about a hundred times that day. It was going ever so slow.

Finally, I was driving through traffic on my way home, all the while thinking about the new situation at home. On the way back, I made my mind up about one thing. DON'T call her "Mom" in any circumstances, because, she wasn't there......she had made that clear. She had gone away. The woman now in the house was Brigitte our sexy gorgeous French maid. So call her Brigitte and treat her as a maid.

God, it was going to be fun.

I got back to the house as quickly as I could. And there she was in the kitchen cooking the evening meal. She was wearing the sexy maid's uniform and still pretending to be French. But was she pretending? I was beginning to wonder, particularly when she picked up the phone and began to converse with someone in what seemed like perfect French. But then again, how the hell would I know what that would really sound like. I'd never had anything to do with that particular language.

"Who was that?" I asked, when she had finished. "Oh, that was Michelle," she told me, "a friend of mine who lives in Paris. We keep it short because a long distance call is very expensive."

I frowned. Was she doing an acting job on me? It seemed like it.

But hey, she was enjoying herself, so what the hell.

Later, she sat me down in the dining room and served me my meal. I watched as she walked into the kitchen and sat alone at a little table. "Servants don't eat at the same table as their employers," she told me.

Half an hour later, while I was watching TV in the lounge, she walked past, gave me a smile and a wink and started walking up the stairs, her hips swaying seductively to and fro, showing off her wonderfully shaped bottom and a great pair of legs. It was a hint for me to follow her and I immediately did so. She walked slow, giving me the chance to lock my eyes on the mesmerising rear view of a sexy milf in motion. If she meant to seduce me, she was certainly going about it in the right way. I was hot and horny before we even got to the top.

She stood on the landing, turned to face me and pressed a finger to her lips. "Mmmm?" She queried, "you like some hanky panky now?"

Did I ever? "Oh yes."

My hand reached out to possessively hold her upper arm. I wasn't going to let her get out of an offer like that.

But she still had a finger pressed to her mouth. In obvious thought.