Going Out With Daddy Ch. 06

And then his shorts slipped down his legs, the boxers staying slung around his hips. He stepped out of his discarded clothing carelessly, and I could see his member swinging unfettered within the loose confines of his boxers. They were so thin, I could see little details of his thick shaft, including the outline of his circumcised head. I swallowed nervously. He carefully folded his shorts and brought them up to the deck, putting them next to me.

"I'm ready now, Mom," he said quietly. His voice was low, deep, sexy. He looked deep into my eyes, then winked. "Are you ready?"

"Uh, sure... Um, whenever you are." He turned and started walking back to the middle of the yard. On a sudden whim, I turned the nozzle of the hose on and let him have it square in the middle of the back. He must have jumped a mile!

"Mom!"

"Turnabout's fair play, kid," I laughed. He looked at me with a wounded expression. I rolled my eyes. "Jeez! Have a sense of humor." He chuckled, reluctantly.

"Fine. I'm ready now."

I turned the nozzle back on, and let the spray hit him in the chest. He stood stock still, his eyes closed. I played the water over him, splashing where I wished. The water dripped over his chest, his pecs, his flat stomach. It washed over his boxers, and I couldn't help but notice that where the thin cotton plastered to his skin, it turned pink and see-through. This I had to experiment with!

With carefully placed splashes, I started the process of soaking his boxers. In no time, the poor garment had given up hope of disguising what lay beneath. The dark hair above his sex, the shaft hanging down, the head of his flaccid penis. The heavy sac below, with its precious cargo, pulled up against the warmth of his body as defense against the cold water. It was all laid before my eyes. In truth, it was almost like looking at a Greek statue. Although it was erotic in an intellectual way, it wasn't making me slaver with lust. All this was a relief to my tortured mind. I could keep on playing and flirting with him. Obviously, I wasn't actually attracted to him.

He turned and I washed his back with the cold water. The same thing happened here. I could see his gorgeous rear, the two cheeks muscular and round, the crevice between them deep and well-defined. I turned off the nozzle.

"Okay," I called. "I think it's my turn now."

"Mmm. Wow, thanks, Mom. That felt awesome. I'm definitely cooled down." He came over to me, not bothering to cover up with way the boxers clung to his masculinity. I handed him the hose, then stepped into the sun. I took a deep breath, and hoped to God I knew what I was doing.

"I'm going to take off my shorts as well," I announced. I kept my back to him, and quickly shucked them off my legs. I couldn't stop to think about it, or I might have chickened out. I knew that my panties were more than I should be displaying to my son. I heard a sharp intake of breath behind me as my ass came into view. But it was all still innocent, after all. No harm to anybody.

"Okay," I said, my arms folded across my front, my back still to him. "Shoot." In a second, I felt the sudden sharp cold of the water slicing over my hot skin. It was torture and delight at the same time, until I got used to it. Then it was just delight.

"Wow, Mom," Don called out to me. "You look just like a model, the way you're standing."

"Really?" I looked over my shoulder at him. "What kind of model would be wearing these kinds of clothes?"

"The kind I look at on my computer some times," he joked.

"Naughty boy," I laughed. "Comparing your mother to some bimbo on porn sites!"

"No comparison, Mom. You're much more beautiful."

"Is that all?" I was caught up in the moment. "Just beautiful?"

"No," he said, seriously. "Sexy, too."

"Sexy, huh? And how would a model pose in these pictures of yours?" I loved the byplay, the undercurrent of illicit passion. It was so exciting! And flattering, too.

"Hmm. Let's see." The water turned off. He walked down to where I was standing, shivering slightly from the chill water. "Put your arms up with your hands behind your neck." I stared at him for a second, then did as he asked. The position of my arms caused my chest to push forward.

"Now, arch your back so your bottom is pushed outward." The pose was awkward, but I knew exactly what he was looking for, and I complied. It felt so freeing to be sexy with my boy. "Spread your legs apart about a foot and a half." He looked at me candidly. I blushed. But I did just as he asked. I wondered what my ass would look like in this position.

"Very nice, Mom," he said, happily. "Let me just look at you for a few seconds."

"You really are a naughty boy, to make your mother pose like this." My nipples felt as hard as rocks, pushing viciously out against the front of my bra. I looked at him with half-lidded eyes. He walked around me, examining me from every angle. "I guess you finally got to see all of my legs."

"I sure have," he said, musingly.

"You promised me a frank evaluation," I smiled.

"You're right, I did." He stood directly behind me. I could feel him looking at me. I felt so exposed, so indecently exposed for his delectation. But I desperately wanted to hear what he had to say.

"You have incredible tone in your muscles, Mom. The shape of your legs is just the way an artist would draw them. There is not a drop of excess fat anywhere from your ankles to the tops of your thighs." Oh, my God! He was looking at the tops of my thighs!

"There's a pleasing line to the outside of your legs, from knee to hip, and then in to waist, just along here." I nearly jumped when I felt his finger glide up from my knee to the outside of my leg. I shivered as it slid inexorably over my hip, across the lacy band of my soaked panties, and then to the place where my waist started curving out again to my ribs. It wasn't ticklish; rather it was enticing, thrilling.

"In some rare instances, a woman has a few curves that don't merely arouse, but invite, that draw your gaze to where you're meant to look. They focus the eye, remind you that what you are looking at is not merely a remarkable instance of feminine beauty, but is also a finely tuned instrument to achieve pleasure and delight." His voice was soft, seductive. My God, I was getting so turned on just listening to him! But I reminded myself that this was just for fun. Nothing more.

"In you, I see every single one of those curves."

"Wh—where?" My voice sounded dry, raspy.

"Mm. I'm not sure I should show you, Mom."

"Nonsense," I said, trying to sound firm. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. We're just family here."

"All right," he replied, sounding amused.

I see that you've finally truly gotten comfortable, Marie, Tim. It's important that you're completely relaxed around me if this experiment is going to work. And yes, Tim, that includes letting our daughter touch you in front of me. Doesn't he feel lovely, Marie? I've always enjoyed holding him when he's so excited. Try to prolong it as long as you can. You'll make him feel so much happier that way.

"The first one is right here." That soft, gentle finger traced inward from my hip, delineating the border of my ass. It was just along the edge of my panties, so he wasn't touching skin, but the intimacy of his caress was breathtaking. "The undercurve of the bottom is one of the most visually erotic places on a female body."

"A m—male's too, you know," I stuttered.

"I wouldn't know about that." His finger crept along the curve of my ass, moving steadily towards the middle. God, how far would he go? "Right here, where the cheek curves upward to make the cleft, there should be only smooth gradation. No angles, no droop. And yours, Mom, right here," and his finger paused, sitting almost between my ass cheeks, "is perfection itself."

"Mmm," I sighed, wiggling a little against his finger. "You're a smooth talker, aren't you?"

"I've been told," he laughed softly. His finger stayed put right against me.

"I believe you said curves? As in, more than one?" I prompted.

"Mm-hm. I did. The second is right below the first." His finger traced downward, gliding over the curve of my ass to slide onto my upper thigh. It slipped between my legs, and my breath caught. "It's this line right here." He caressed a few inches below my crotch on my inner leg.

"Do tell," I breathed. My whole body was on fire with anticipation. We were really only having fun, right? Or had some line already been crossed? I couldn't tell any more, but whatever. It was too much fun to protest now.

"Some women are lucky enough to have a slight space between their thighs, a place where the two legs don't quite meet. In those lucky few, should they bend forward, their sex is displayed to perfection, framed by the sweet curves of their thighs. You are one of those lucky, lucky ladies, Mom."

"I'm lucky? Or the hypothetical person who is regarding me is lucky?" My voice was wry, but joking.

"Both, Mom. Bend forward a little more." My God, after what he had said? He wanted to see my 'sex displayed to perfection?' Well, all right. I had my panties on after all. He wouldn't really be able to see anything. I hoped. I leaned forward, keeping my feet planted and my legs straight. I knew exactly how he wanted me to stand.

His finger stayed right there, perched on my inner thigh, and as I leaned forward, I felt it rasp against the edge of my panties. Good lord, my son had his finger right at the edge of my pussy! I was breathing heavily. My whole sex felt thick and hot. I wondered if he could smell it. I almost hoped he could!

"Beautiful, Mom. Absolutely beautiful. It's these lines right here," and his finger traced around the entire edge of the gusset of my panties, surrounding the tender skin of my pussy. "They delineate you precisely, showing off to its best effect the sexuality of your womanhood."

"Mm. I just bet they do, Don," I said dryly. "I bet it would all look even better if I had no panties on, hmm?"

"Well, I wouldn't dare say," he laughed. "I'm sure you're right."

"D—do you..." But I couldn't finish my thought. For at that second, his cell phone rang. I straightened up, the spell suddenly broken. My face was flushed. He looked at me steadily for a second. There was not a trace of shame or disapproval in his eyes. Just love... or was it lust? Or both? He turned to get his phone from his shorts.

"Hello? Oh, hi, Mark... Nothing much, just working on the house. Uh huh... Tonight? What time? Um, okay." He glanced over at me. "I've got a house guest. Would it be okay to bring her along? Yes, her... God, you're such a skag... Okay. See you later then." He flipped the phone shut and turned back to me.

"There's a party tonight at one of my friend's dorms. Do you want to go?"

"A party?" I thought back to college. That was such a long time ago. Did I really want to get back into that sort of milieu? "Do you want to go?"

"Sure, but only if you want to. I should warn you, they do get a little out of hand, usually. You know, kind of like a make-out party."

"Hmm. I'm not sure that your friends would want one of their friend's mothers to be there, then."

"Don't be silly. We won't tell them you're my mother. They'll never guess anyway. We don't look that much alike, and you don't look old enough to be my mother."

"Flattery again?" I looked at him fondly. "What the heck? Won't hurt anybody for us to go and have some fun tonight." He smiled back at me. It felt so wonderful out there in the hot sun, the two of us, so close, so loving. In our underwear, no less! But, I loved that we could be so intimate without fake modesty. Mother and son should have nothing to hide from one another, I reasoned to myself.

"Well," I said finally, breaking my reverie. "If I'm going to go to a party tonight, I'm going to have to go shopping to get something a little prettier than what I brought with me. I'll take the car and go to the mall while you keep on working here, all right?"

"Sure, Mom," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "I hope you find something that will show off that pretty body of yours."

"What? Donald Marks, you watch yourself," I scolded, but I couldn't help blushing.

"Seriously," he insisted. "If I'm bringing you to a make-out party, you have to show up the other girls, or my friends will think I'm a loser."

"I—I don't know if I can show up college age girls, honey," I stammered. "They've got twenty years on me." What was he saying? Was I really going along with his plan to introduce me to his friends as his girl? He came close to me, and the proximity of his fine physique made me feel a little dizzy.

"Believe me, Mom. There's not a girl on this whole campus who can hold a candle to you, when you put your mind to it." He pulled me in close against him, my skin against his except where our undergarments separated us. He gazed deeply down into my eyes, and I felt embarrassed by the intensity of his look. I blushed and put my head against his chest. I could hear the calm thump of his heart, and it steadied me.

"All right, buster," I whispered. "You asked for it..."

When I got back from the mall several hours later, it was already evening. Don had already showered and was making some dinner. I fended off his curiosity and took my bags into the bathroom. My God, was I really going to go through with this? I looked at my purchases and my courage nearly failed me. But I couldn't let my son down. I had made a promise to him that afternoon, and I was going to show him just how good I could look. I showered and shaved in all those personal places that help a girl to feel extra-special.

The dress was a slip-type dress, all black satin and lace, with little half-sleeves. The bodice had a light built-in bra, and the neckline swooped deep between my breasts to show off the inner slopes of my cleavage. It had a little tie to give the waist definition. Below the butt, it was all lace, stopping at mid-thigh. The satin over my ass would show off any panty lines, so I had purchased a black g-string to go along with it. I had found a pair of black strappy high-heeled sandals to go along.

I studied myself in the mirror. I felt nearly naked in the little dress, but I wasn't showing anything inappropriate. It looked sexy, not slutty. I pulled my hair back into a soft pony-tail, and applied some light make-up to my face. The final image was just what I had hoped it would be. I looked years younger than I usually do, and for the first time, I felt a little confidence that I could pull this off. It wouldn't do for us to arrive at the party and have people ask Don why he brought his mother along!

Don was suitably impressed when I emerged. In fact, his jaw hung open. I took in his appearance at the same time, and liked what I saw. He had a white short-sleeved linen shirt on and a pair of neat khaki pants, flat-front and crisp. His dark hair was neatly combed and still wet from the shower.

"Close your mouth, Don. I don't want anything to fly in," I joked.

"Nice, Mom," he said, blinking. "You look stunning."

"You won't have to worry about being embarrassed by your old mom?"

"Old mom? Where is she? All I see is a gorgeous, sexy young woman."

"You're just saying that 'cause you're hoping to get lucky tonight," I teased.

"Damn straight," he laughed. "A guy'd have to be a fool not to hope that after seeing you." It felt so comfortable, so natural to flirt with him. If he was so calm and happy about it, what did I have to worry about?

We had a pleasant dinner, sharing a bottle of wine. After the first glass, I was completely relaxed. Conversation with my boy was so easy. And he kept giving me such admiring glances, looking down at my chest, reaching out to touch my hand. I felt lightheaded, buzzed, horny. My nipples were hard most of the evening, just from his presence.

At nine thirty, we got ready to go. The summer evening was delightful, a mild breeze stirring the air. The night sky was clear, the stars brilliant in their millions. I felt so romantic, walking along the quiet college town streets, arm in arm with a handsome young man. We reached his friend's dorm and walked in.

The lights were dim and there was soft music playing. Young people were sitting around the entrance hall in twos and threes, talking and laughing. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but the atmosphere was congenial, welcoming. I let go of whatever unease I had still residing in my chest.

"Hey, Don," a young man said, coming out of the side room. "Glad you could make it."

"Hi, Mark," my son replied. "Let me introduce you to Carol, my... uh, my friend."

"Pleased to meet you," I said, taking Mark's hand.

"Likewise," he said, his eyebrows raised. "Wow, Don. You sure know how to pick 'em."

"A smooth talker, hm?" I quirked a smile at him. "Better watch out, Don. Your friend might just steal me away!" We laughed, and Mark led us inside. He was there with a girl as well, a sweet blonde named Emmy. I met several other couples, all friends in the same group. We sat around talking, drinking wine coolers and beer. I was glad to see that everyone had made the effort to look good.

"Carol, would you like to dance?" Mark stood up and extended a hand to me. I looked over at Don, and he nodded, smiling.

"I'd be delighted," I said, standing up and taking Mark's hand.

"I guess that leaves you and me, Emmy. Want to dance?"

"Thought you'd never ask," she laughed.

We moved to another main room, where the music was a little louder. It was some lovely slow jazz, Chet Baker or something. Mark took me into his arms and we started swaying together. I felt so relaxed, so genuinely happy. I let myself mold against this young man's body.

"Don's a lucky guy," he whispered into my ear.

"You think so?"

"Well, he's going out with you. That's pretty lucky as far as I'm concerned." I was quiet for a second, feeling his strong arms around me. He was holding me across the back, his hands respectfully kept just below my shoulder blades.

"Mm," I said finally. "Well, Emmy's lucky to have you, I think."

"She's a wonderful girl," he said softly. "She and I are very good to each other. We know that we each have our own needs, and we're good about letting each other find out how to fulfill them." His hand moved down my back, pulling me against him. I could feel something thick and firm pushing against my stomach. I had no doubts as to what it was.

I looked over his shoulder to where Don and Emmy were dancing. She was plastered up against him, her short blonde hair on his shoulder. His hands were filled with her tight ass, squeezing and caressing her through her thin cotton dress. I felt a little jealous. But why should I? He was my son, and I had man enough right here.

I deliberately let my hand fall down to Mark's ass. He felt wonderful, strong and manly. I felt his breath warm against the side of my face.

"So you don't feel jealous, seeing Don holding Emmy's butt?"

"No," he said, earnestly. "How could I when I'm just about to get to feel what I've been desiring all night?" His hand swept over my waist, down to my ass, where he started caressing me through the satin of my dress. It felt divine, and my legs trembled. I looked up into his face, to find him coming closer.

His lips met mine, and I melted into him. His tongue sought out mine and they wrestled together. I surrendered. I would let him do what he wanted. His hand found the hem of my dress and pulled it up, reaching underneath to fondle my uncovered ass.

"Mmm," he murmured. "I like a girl who can wear a g-string." His erection pushed insistently into me. God, I was indulging in a make-out party with an almost complete stranger. I looked around, to find that Don and Emmy had disappeared. Mark took my hand and led me back into the other room.