Michael

Below that, her hips spread widely and womanly, not only supporting her very long legs. But as she swivelled sideways, she could see that her hips also supported her firm, perfectly formed peach of a bum. She witnessed her hand suddenly smack it hard, and as she felt the sting of the contact on her skin, she wondered why on Earth she had done that?

Between her legs, and about her pubic area, she was completely devoid of hair, and had been for many years. She liked the look and feel of the delicate skin which often reminded her of when she was a little girl. At present, as then, nothing, other than the outer lips was visible, just a slit that ran down beneath her, that is until she got aroused.

Leigh found that she was smiling, when her gaze eventually made it upwards to her face. Her defined 'cupids bow' and full, deep lower lip gave her a very kissable mouth, coupled with luscious, green eyes, which at the moment, looked heavy lidded and sultry, all made for one very sexy looking lady, even if she admitted it herself. She had managed to defy time, and more importantly, gravity, though she did wonder just how long that would go on for?

The bra that she had now chosen to wear, was pure white. The cups were all made from lace-work, delicate and seeming to have the strength of rice paper, so fragile were they in appearance, with more holes that solid sections. As she slipped her arms into the shoulder straps and brought the five clasps together between and beneath her breasts, it was very evident that her large thrusting mounds had other ideas about their entrapment, and were not going to give in that easily.

She playfully nudged them into their enclosures, with the heel of her hands and then fastened the hook and eye clasps of the bra-let between her cleavage. She adjusted the straps to ensure both breasts were supported evenly. Beneath the very fine lace-work, her areola were very visible, but her nipples were strategically hidden behind some lace flowers. That is, they would have been if they weren't misbehaving as they were now.

Next, Leigh pulled on her panties. These were nothing, other than a small triangle of the same lacey weave. From the top points on the triangle, an elasticated strap was attached, and as she slipped the triangle over her pussy, this strap she set high on her hips. At the bottom point of the triangle, another strap rand between her legs, to connect to that about her waist. Had she had any pubic hair, it would have been easily discernible through the patch work of lace. But for now anyway, she was decently covered, her vulva, smooth mounds beneath the scant material.

As she picked up the suspender belt, she smiled warmly. It had been at least two years since she had worn it. She didn't know why it had been that long, for she loved wearing stockings. Enjoying the fact that they made her feel so sexy. But she guessed that it was for that very reason that she hadn't worn it. As other than Michael, there was no-one there to appreciate her sexiness.

"Other than Michael?" Leigh suddenly spoke to her reflection, questioning her own thoughts. "What do you mean other than Michael? You are not doing this for his benefit, he is your son Leigh, not a would-be admirer?" She paused, in clipping the suspender belt about her waist, her mind running on to places that it shouldn't. "Leigh?" She admonished herself, "stop what you are thinking right now!" She slowly swivelled the suspender belt around her waist, positioning it correctly. Again the lace work on this piece was incredibly delicate. The designed panels about her hips, looking like a very short, frilly skirt, from which the stocking supports hung.

Picking up the white stockings, she slid her hand into one, splaying her fingers as she drew the sheer material across her fingers. She turned her hand as she did so, making sure there were no runs in the silk. The sensory feel of the silk upon her finger tips, caused a flutter in her stomach, and her skin broke out in goose-bumps all over; she knew what that would lead to, but could not stop the enjoyment she was getting from the stocking. She gathered it up in her fingers and thumbs and slipped her toes into the ravel of silk, slowly drawing the sheer-white, super-fine mesh over her heel. She pulled as she drew it further, up her calf, allowing more and more of the stocking to slip passed her fingers, up over her knee and onto her taut, golden thigh, where four inches from the juncture of her thighs, she had reached the stocking top.

Holding the tracery of the fine patterned silk stocking top, in her left hand, she separated the suspender clip, and feeding it underneath her thong strap, secured it to the stocking at the centre-point of her thigh. She then reached around her thigh, and secured the side strap. Having done that, she dressed her left leg in a similar fashion, standing before the mirror again, to adjust the lengths of the straps and get the stockings at a similar height upon her thighs. She could not stop herself from rubbing her thighs and feeling the exotic and erotic silk, tautly stretched there. It induced a little shiver of pleasure from her.

Getting dressed in this lingerie, was having a rather profound effect on Leigh. Not least because of how she thought she looked in it, but how it felt too. She could see, as well as feel that her nipples were really enjoying the experience. Though technically hidden from view behind the lace flowers on the bra-let cups, the large erections were making their presence even more evident. Their jutting, hard shapes, changing the smooth lines of the delicate lace cups.

Her very small panties too, were struggling to disguise the fact that her labia had begun to swell, her smooth young looking pussy, was no-longer clam-like. But was opening as her genitals became aroused, the inner labia becoming more prominent, and in their enlargement, they too could be seen easily beneath the thin veil of her panties.

Leigh could not help but take a few selfies. She felt so good, and wanted to try and capture that moment. The last picture, showing the rosy flush on her upper chest, neck and face, blooming in conjunction with her growing sexual arousal.

Leigh knew what her body wanted. She had not given into its needs in a while and was very tempted to allow herself that pleasure now. She ran her hands up and down her thighs. Her fingertips tingling along with her pussy. Her fingers slipped to the insides of her legs on the journey upwards, and inevitably ran across the little triangle covering her pussy. She could feel the pronounced labia as her gossamer touch glided by, and it caused a judder to run through her body. She carried on up, eventually cupping a large breast in each hand, her thumbs running over the erections beneath the lacey material. A groan escaped her lips, a groan that made her smile as she stopped what she was doing and turned to her dress. "No Leigh, that will have to wait," she said to the mirror. "You don't want to make a mess of your lovely lingerie now do you?"

Slipping her arms into the dress, she did up the buttons, presenting her cleavage to very good effect. She knew that her 'girls' looked very good, and playfully undid one extra button. In her younger days, she would have gone out like that, these days however, and with a teenage son about, she decided it was too much and hastily did the button back up.

Having got herself decent. She padded in her stockinged feet, into Michael's room. He had gone out early as he had said, and the room was still in darkness.

Opening his curtains, and cracking open a window. She quickly straightened his bed and pulled back the covers to air it, then set about trying to find where he had hidden her photos. It took a while, but she eventually found them in plain sight to a degree. The wallet was tucked in between his books. She was sure that she had looked there yesterday? Had he realised she had looked into his little stash of her underwear? Did he know that she had looked at his drawings? She knelt down and looked under the bed, certainly the pad had been moved from where she had put it, but it was still there, as was his box of 'treasures'.

As she sat upon the bed, opening the photo wallet, another thought struck her rather sex befuddled brain. A thought that she was surprised had not entered into her head the day before. It hit her, like a freight train, both shocking and strangely pleasing to her at the same time. 'What if he were using her pictures to masturbate to?' Once the thought was there, there was no stopping it. What if he was using her things, and her pictures to....to..' For some reason she thought about the last time she had seen his penis. He would have been going through puberty and was asking her why hair was growing in that area. She had explained to him that pubic hair was a very natural thing. And that had been the end of it. That had been the last time.

But now, she found herself wondering, and that wondering was definitely forbidden fruit. "Shit!" She suddenly burst into voice. "Surely he is not wan....not using my pictures to...to get off on? I mean, I'm his mother!" It was conjecture. She knew that. There was no evidence, on her panties or stockings in his box, on his bedsheets, or even in his own boxers. For all she knew, he might not have even started playing with himself yet. Some boys were late starters after all?

As she cogitated on this, she began to leaf through her pictures. 'If I take these away', she thought, 'he will know that I have them. Then perhaps I should destroy them? But they are good and still make me feel good about myself. Besides, maybe he is only using them to practise drawing, is that a bad thing? But they are of me, his mother, of course it is a bad thing that he sees me in these....positions'. Her thoughts battled it out, but did not really resolve anything. For certain, she knew she didn't want to destroy them, not yet anyway. And she had to admit to herself, that she did like the pictures he had drawn of her. They were sympathetically done, and he had covered her modesty, which, considering what was on display in those particular photographs, was a surprise to her. She believed that at the very least, it showed that he had respect for her. Obviously not enough to have stopped him from pinching her stuff in the first place, but that was another subject.

Leigh found herself sorting through the pictures, removing those very explicit ones and leaving the lesser ones in the wallet. Of course she realised, that he would know she had done that. And that she would therefore be condoning his use of the photos that she had left and essentially of him going through her stuff without her knowledge or permission. But she felt this was the best compromise. Besides, as she looked more and more at the images in her hands, some of which she had completely forgotten about, it became apparent to her that she was thinking less with her brain, and more with her pulsating genitals. In fact, Leigh had to admit to herself, that she was more aroused now, than she had been in at least a couple of years, and if she kept staring at these pictures of her involved in sex of some sort or another, she might well end up masturbating to the photographs herself! She needed a distraction, so, getting up, tidied his bedroom a little more, then took the pictures she had selected and put them back in Michael's hiding place. Then the explicit ones, she took back to her room and hid them beside her toys. Grabbing some shoes, she decided it was time for a bit of retail therapy.

Michael sat at his easel, all of his drawing equipment was out and he was ready for the subject of the day. He was hoping that it would be his favourite model, but it could just as easily be a ninety year old man. He was in the hands of the teacher, as to who would be chosen. He adjusted his chosen drawing paper and when he next looked up, he saw Dominique looking at him, as she sat upon the stool on the dais, wearing a dark blue dressing gown. She smiled at him, her mouth opening and showing her perfectly white teeth, as the smile developed into a grin. "OK, settle down now. The model will assume the pose we discussed earlier, and you have four hours to complete your studies of her. We will break every thirty minutes. At the halfway point, there will be a change in pose."

Dominique removed the dressing gown, putting it over the stool, and assumed the pose. Her olive skin immediately reacted to the slight chill in the room and broke out into goosebumps. Her large brown areola about her erecting nipples, began to crinkle and ridge as the erecting nubs of flesh drew in the sensitive skin about them. All the model was wearing was a very small pair of black panties. But in truth, they were so small, they may as well have not been there. Her long almost jet-black hair, striking in its length and lustre, fell all about her, creating for Michael an enchanting image, that he was desperate to capture. So much so, that as she prepared herself, he had already started to sketch out her frame.

Michael knew he was smitten with the girl. She was one of the most beautiful women he had seen. But he was also one of the most awkward of individuals, tongue-tied and shy, particularly around girls, and especially around the pretty ones. Which was strange really, considering that he was a very good looking young man, well-muscled, tall and strong. The brooding, silent type that women tend to go for.

Dominique turned to the waiting artists saying "Ola, como estao todos voces." Then in very good English. "Brrr, it is very cold in here!" She pointed at her large, hard nipples, making the assembled artists laugh. All except Michael, who had been studying Portuguese ever since being introduced to Dominique. He blurted out before he could stop himself. "Estamos encantados por voce esta aqui."

Dominique's eyes widened as she turned to him and she responded with, "Que bom de voce dizer. So nice of you to say Michael."

Michael's face exploded into a crimson hue of utter embarrassment. He had not meant to speak allowed, and had certainly not expected Dominique to reply to him. But what surprised him the most, was that she had remembered his name. All of the artists had been introduced to her when they first met, but that had been over a month ago and he had hardly said a word to her since.

"Thank you Dominique," he said rather shyly.

"Oh, not so formal Michael. Please call me Dom. After all, we have gotten to know each other rather well these last few weeks, no? Or certainly, you have all got to know me very well. She smiled, and all about her the laughter broke out again. Except that is for Michael, who was desperate to catch what he considered to be the beauty of Dom's breasts and in particular, her swollen nipples and areola. The lighting for him was perfect, and he didn't want to miss this opportunity, spending the next thirty minutes in complete concentration.

"You like my breasts do you Michael? You certainly draw them very well." Dom's breathy, low voice was a sultry melody in his ear, her breath upon him warm and scented, bringing his skin up in goose-bumps immediately. "They look so realistic, almost as if you could touch them. And look, you have drawn me with the naughty nipples. Very sexy Michael. I think you are a sexy man, no? And you like Dominique to be sexy?"

He turned his head towards her, but instead of her backing away, she maintained the very close contact, her face only inches away from his, her attention and conversation only for him. "I think you are the best artist here Michael, I think also, you like very much how I look, no?"

"I er...I...that is...I really appreciate beauty in all things."

"Ah, so you wish to appreciate me, is that what you say?"

"Yes Dom. Er that is no I....appreciate your beauty, not that I want to appreciate you. Not that I don't want to...I mean.." He was becoming more and more flustered, and he could see that she knew it. Her curving mouth, widening into a smile.

"My special friends call me Nique." She pronounced it Nicky. "Do you want to be my special friend Michael?"

Michael was struck dumb. All he could do was to nod his head in affirmation as the rather beguiling girl before him smiled and began to giggle, her breasts jiggling as she did so. "Well, I must be back to it. But I would sit for you privately if you wanted me to Michael?" She walked back to the dais, and sat back down, exactly replicating the pose she had held before.

Michael was struggling with all of his emotions, his ability to speak had seemed to have left him. He could no longer concentrate and worse, parts of his body, were no-longer under his control.

Leigh had spent a good few hours shopping. She had, despite herself, bought some new lingerie, negligees in the main. She was not quite sure why she had done it, but in trying them on, particularly as she kept on her stockings, suspenders and panties; did make her feel extremely sexy. And she felt, it was not a bad thing to make oneself feel sexy. The sleep-wear was silky, diaphanous and beautifully detailed, and was about as far removed from a pair of pyjamas, as one could get.

She dumped the bags of shopping by her bed, and went back down stairs for a much needed cup of tea. Taking it into the lounge, she sat in her favourite chair, by the picture window, and looked out upon the garden. Lacking in sleep from the night before, it was not long before her eyelids were drooping. The warmth of the sun, streamed in through the window and enfolded her in a warm blanket. She drifted off before taking a single sip of her tea.

Michael arrived home to a quiet house. It was unusual, as his mother would normally have some music on. So, he thought she was either round the neighbours, or was in the garden. When he walked into the lounge however, he could see that she was asleep in the chair. He laughed, thinking that she must be getting old and walked around to stand before her.

His mother looked anything but old however. In fact she looked stunning in her white dress and white tights. Her high-heeled white shoes a surprised to him as he had not seen her wearing high-heels for ages. Her golden hair, falling all about her shoulders and her breasts. Yes, she looked anything but old to Michael. Her deep breathing suggested to him that she had been asleep for a while. So rather than waking her, or leaving, he took his time to study her further.

Having seen his mother completely naked, and in some very sexual positions, albeit in photo's, made his pulse race all the more, as he looked at her now. He knew he had an infatuation with his mother. He knew too that what he was thinking, he could be arrested for. But the beauty of the woman before him, was undeniable.

His eyes were magnetically drawn to her full breasts, once again. He could see the white bra that she wore beneath the thin cotton dress. He watched intently, the rise and fall of her weighty attributes, as she breathed deeply. After what was a battle of wills, he drew his eyes away and looked down her body, across her narrow waist, widened hips, her knees and to her calves and high-heels.

It had been quite a while since he could remember that his mother had worn a dress and tights. He wondered why, as in his opinion she looked really good in them? He took out his phone and took a few pictures. Making sure that all of her attributes were captured. He took some close-up shots of her face, her breasts and her magnificent legs. Legs that were slightly parted in their repose. It was during taking another picture of her breasts, that he could see the top two buttons were under considerable stress, and further, had not been done up properly, or were already giving way under the pressure, he couldn't tell.

Michael found that his mouth was very dry, as he contemplated his next move. He had, he knew, already broken the trust that he had with his mother, by going through her things. By taking the pictures he had found, by stealing some of her panties and stockings. And now, by taking these pictures without her consent. And yet here he was, watching his right hand move forward, about to cross yet another forbidden line; but he seemed powerless to stop himself from doing this either. This time however, there was no going back, there was no covering up what he was about to do, should she wake. How would she react? Should he risk it?