Modern Motherhood - Prom with Mom

I hadn't noticed it, but mom's dress is not fully zipped up. She asks me to do that for her. Nervously I do, glad not to have caught her soft skin with the zipper in the process, which feels like a big accomplishment to me.

Finally, she asks me to choose between two pairs of high heeled shoes that she had brought. I prefer the black ones over the red ones, and my mother agrees with me. It is good to be included in these seemingly important decisions. It feels like recognition or acceptance of some sort, and it makes me feel like her date instead of her son.

I put the room key and prom invite that we will need to present when entering the hall in my pocket and take my mother by her arm downstairs. I practiced this move in preparation of prom.

PROM

Professional photographers take pictures from seven to eight. We pose together as a couple, individually and with my friends and their dates as they are arriving. Mom is chatting with two of her friends. She looks happy, which makes me feel at ease. In fact, all mothers look happy. They talk and laugh a lot.

The photographer takes several pictures of the gorgeous middle-aged women. They stand out a little bit but in the most favourable way imaginable.

At eight we are invited to go to the tables that were set up on the lawn for dinner. Given that so many parent-dates are at prom this year, we had decided on an exquisite five-course dinner instead of the usual all-you-can-eat buffet. My mom looks impressed and says that she likes the food and setup very much. The evening is beautiful, still plenty of daylight. I study my mother's face as she eats. Her lips are sensual. Her hands smooth. I am enchanted by the matching lipstick and nail polish. And her catchy laugh. She is the most beautiful woman at prom in my opinion. By a mile.

At nine, the deejay starts the party in the large salon, and we slowly move in the direction of the music. My mom and I chat with several of my friends and their mothers before we reach the dancefloor.

The music is a mix of modern and old. Especially the older songs are a success. The deejay reads the audience, and the mothers cheer and clap loudly, guiding the music in their preferred direction.

I dance mostly with my mother, but she also dances to some songs with her friends, and I do the same with my classmates. I enjoy dancing with my mother most though. I feel clumsy but my mother is an excellent dancer, and she leads me until I get the rhythm and my moves come naturally.

At eleven, my friends and I go on stage to do the sketch that we had prepared for prom. We have a great time playing out the rehearsed act, cheered on by students and our beautiful dates. All the stress that I still had in me evaporates as we laugh our heads off replaying some of the principal's fumbles and other hilarious situations that had taken place during the year.

After the sketch, the deejay picks up again and nearly all couples fill the dance floor. The last dance for mother-son and father-daughter couples is at mid night, two hours before the party is scheduled to end. It was done this way so that parent-child couples can start the night earlier.

For our final dance, the deejay plays a slow romantic song. The lights are dimmed.

My mother and I slowly float over the dancefloor, and I feel how my mother is drifting closer to me than she had been all night. All my adolescent youth, actually.

Her hands on my shoulders feel different, not those of a mother, but those of a girlfriend. She tightens her grip and leans her body into mine. She embraces me, while dancing. Her breasts glide over my chest and the scent of her perfume fills the air between us. I feel lightheaded and start perspiring a little bit. Being so close to my mother feels heavenly. My hands slide over the back of her silky dress while our bodies move with the music as one. I wish the dance would last forever. Heat radiates through our clothes. Feeling her body so close to mine is reassuring and safe, but also overpowering and stirring, just as the psychologist and counsellor had predicted.

THE HOTEL ROOM

When the dance finishes, the lights in the hall light up again and all couples leave the dance floor. Mothers collect their purses and sons their jackets. There are many goodbyes and goodnights. Not long after, the many mother-son and handful father-daughter couples head for the doors and start disappearing.

I see most of my friends walking with their mothers to the reception area, valet scrambling to get their cars. All couples are holding hands or embracing each other. For a moment, I am curious to know where they are going to spend the night and what is going on in their minds. Are they as nervous as I am?

I hug two of my friends who remain at prom on our way out as the party is picking up speed again in the background.

Mom and I take a longer way to the elevator, leisurely strolling through the garden as we did in the afternoon. The moon is bright and beautiful. She takes my hand and grabs it firmly. I silently accept. She squeezes my hand and starts playing with my fingers. Her gentle touch is reassuring. It gives me the confidence to tell her that I am nervous. "Don't worry baby. Enjoy the evening and the night. The ball was a wonderful prelude to the upcoming night. I will take care of you tonight. Everything will be OK, son." She squeezes my hand hard to stress her point. "Mom, you look stunning tonight. Everybody knows that you are a beautiful woman, but this evening and in that dress, you look totally amazing."

She responds by saying that that is a very sweet thing to say. "I mean it, mom. With all my heart." She blushes a little bit and locks her fingers with mine.

Ever since the intimate last dance and with the anticipation of the upcoming night, my penis has started growing. I feel uncomfortable trying to conceal my erection in my tuxedo. Luckily, we don't meet anyone in the garden, elevator, or hallway on our way to our room on the top floor.

The walk from the elevator to our room at the end of the hallway seems endless. My heart rate increases every step that we come closer to the door. I know that I am blessed to be with my supportive gorgeous mother, but I feel pressure that is making me uncomfortable. Luckily mom is marching us to the door in a steady pace which helps me continue.

Following tradition that the counsellor at school had explained to us, I unlock, open, and hold the door for my mother to enter the room. It is symbolic and represents inviting her into my adult life. When both of us are inside, she closes and locks the door. It symbolically ties our bond into the adult relationship that we are starting. It is an important ceremonial step in Modern Motherhood.

Mom hugs me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. She encourages me to hold her, too. We embrace each other tighter than during the dance. She looks at me intently and slowly leans in to kiss me. "May I?" I nod and she carefully plants a kiss on my cheek. It feels surprisingly natural and nice. I smile and ask her the same question: "May I?" She closes her eyes. My lips slowly approach her lovely face, and I gently kiss her nose. Then it is my mother's turn, and she kisses me softly on the lips. My hands roam unsteadily over my mom's back and shoulders to encourage her to continue.

The embrace gives me security. Her voice expresses motherly care and profound love. Slowly, my heartbeat slows down. Our gentle kissing builds the confidence that I desperately need. More than ever, I need my mother's love and support, just like the counsellor had predicted. I feel connected to the beautiful woman that I used to think of as 'just' mom. We are entering a peaceful space, the perfect world. I am disconnecting from anything outside of this room.

I have my mother to myself now. Tonight, it will be just me and her. I love my mother. I trust my mother. I want to be with her, nobody else. Anchored, holding hands, hugging. Talking, laughing and kissing. Roaming hands over our backs, lightly scratching nails down our spines.

While we were at the dance, the hotel staff had organised and stocked the room with fresh fruits and light snacks, water and fruit juices, and energy drinks. Additional soft towels and fancy bottles with bath foam and oils are prominently displayed in the bathroom. The bed and bathroom are scantily lit by small electric candles to create an intimate atmosphere.

Gently, mom releases her grip on me. Not wanting to let her go, I hold my arms around her for as long as I can. She suggests that we go over to the couch.

While I sit down, mom brings the berries and drinks to the table. Wanting to be a gentleman for my date, I pour orange juice in her glass and water in mine.

She proposes a toast. We raise our glasses to the most beautiful mother and the most handsome gentleman couple. Mom commends me on my dancing skills and thanks me for the great evening that we had. She says that the wonderful dinner was so much better than she expected. We recall some of the jokes that the deejay told, and we laugh.

Mom keeps telling me that I look great in the suit. I joke that perhaps I should wear it in bed tonight for her. My joke makes her laugh, and she says that that would be the definition of being over-dressed. We continue talking while eating raspberries. We exchange many compliments, expressing our reciprocal admiration. We speak from the heart and are in a happy space.

As I am refilling my glass with a bit of the red juice, my mother excuses herself, gets up, and goes to the restroom. After flushing the toilet, she goes to the bathroom to wash her hands. Then she opens the faucet of the jacuzzi. Hopeful to continue our fun conversation soon, I study my mother's moves.

She opens a couple of the bottles and dumps the contents into the tub. She bends over and tests the temperature of the water as the smell of spring flowers fills the room. Curious thoughts enter my mind. Is she going to take a bath? Why now?

THE JACUZZI

Finally, my mother returns to the lounge and says: "I think that we should take a bath before we go to bed after so much dancing at the prom in the warm hall. I am sweaty. Shall we go soak in the tub for a while?"

The bathtub? Together? Did she bring a bathing suit? I am confused, unable to answer her question.

Mom takes her shoes off and leaves them next to the couch. She takes the fruits to the bathroom and asks me to bring the drinks.

Standing in front of the mirror, she takes her jewellery off but leaves the wedding band on. Not knowing what to think of that, she lifts her long smooth hair, locking it in place with a clip. Bathing suit, I conclude with some disappointment. I did not bring a suit, so that could get awkward, I fear. My dick is still hard, I realise alarmed.

I slowly get up, dumfounded by the developing situation. I tread hesitantly to the bathroom, joining her in front of the sink.

She turns her back to me and asks: "Can you unzip my dress please?" I frown, nervously taking the zipper between the thumb and index finger of my right hand. I carefully pull it down, making sure not to catch her delicate skin. Slowly, I reveal her back, quickly coming across the back of a black lace bra. Continuing all the way down, I reach the top of a matching panty.

"Now can you please take my dress off, too?"

My heart races. Trembling, I clasp my thumbs under the straps and lift them a little bit, stretching the material more than lifting the dress. Then I pull it sideways and down. Despite my efforts, the dress does not come down. I realise that my mother's breasts are in the way. Trying something different, I pull the straps outward. My mother hunches a little bit forward to make it easier for me. After the dress clears her breasts, it comes down easily. As the straps slide down her arms, her sexy bra comes into full view. My mother's skin is amazing. I try not to stare, and I have trouble breathing.

After a brief pause, I proceed to pulling the dress all the way down, struggling a second time, but this time at her waist. The sight of her tiny thong blows me away.

It covers barely anything of her shapely ass.

The smell of perfume fills the bathroom. It reminds me of our last dance.

Mom steps out of her dress and hangs it over a chair in the bathroom. Returning to me, she says: "Thank you sweetheart." Her hourglass figure and mature curves are sexier than anything I ever pictured. Her flat stomach sandwiched between her big breasts and sexy hips are unreal. My mom's breasts are much bigger than I pictured them to be. Had she done surgery to them?

While I am pondering all those thoughts, my mom starts undressing me. First the jacket, then the tie and shirt. "Arms up, please." She pulls the shirt over my head and puts her hand on my chest. "Gosh, you have strong shoulders! You are no longer a baby-boy," I hear her say. My rapidly growing erection tells me the same.

The big tub is full now. A mountain of foam reaches at least two feet. Mom closes the faucet. "If you sit on the chair, then I can take your shoes and socks off." Loving the attention, I sit down and let my confident mother remove my shoes and socks. She asks me to stand again so that she can unbuckle my pants. Standing, I put my hand on my mom's naked shoulder for support which creates a pleasurable shockwave in our bodies.

My mother stares at the bulge in my boxers. I clearly have a boner and it is undeniably for her. I am embarrassed and I try to say something. Mom smiles and puts a finger on my lips to stop me, reassuring me that it is OK. Instead of saying anything about my awkward situation, she asks: "Would you like to take my bra off? Can you unclasp it please?" Not waiting for my answer, she turns around, her back facing me again.

Trembling, I try but fail. Removing a bra is a lot more difficult than unzipping a dress. I apologise and stammer that I have never done that before. "Don't worry sweetie, there is a first time for everything. First things, that is what moms are for, remember? I taught you many years ago how to sing and make your bed. Now I can teach you adult things. I love to show and teach you everything. If I am lucky, there will be many firsts tonight."

Mom patiently explains how the clasp works and asks me to try again. This time I am successful; the bra opens to the sides. Then she guides me on how to best lift the loose bra off her shoulders, releasing her heavy breasts. When mom turns around, she pushes her chest out a little bit and patiently waits to give me a chance to see her naked bust. She instinctively knows that I want to see her.

Her skin has a natural tanned colour. I spot faint tan lines, dividing the much lighter skin of her breasts from her darker shoulders and arms. Zooming in, I see soft short hair on her arms. I feel the urge to touch her skin but hold back.

Her breasts are fantastic! Beautiful brown nipples are pointing at me. I wonder if they are always that hard. Responding to my stare, she lifts her boobs with her hands. "You have not seen these in a long time, have you?" Being caught staring, I nervously try looking away. But my dick grows an extra inch when she makes the remark. It is the most erotic thing I have ever heard!

My eyes drop and I survey her sexy thong. It barely covers her privates, but no pubes are visible. I wonder if she has any hair at all. Like I do. Or does she shave her body and is smooth as her arm pits, like girls in porn?

I never expected that a woman, any woman, could be so sexy. Especially my own mother. It is surreal. I feel the urge to grab my cock and jack off, not knowing if I will ever see my mother like this again.

"You look uncomfortable, son. Let me help you out of your boxershorts." I nod, paralysed. She generously stretches the band to expertly lift it over my rock-hard penis. My last piece of closing drops to the floor. "Step in the tub darling."

Too preoccupied with my feelings of lust, worry, and shame for my hardon, coupled with the challenge of stepping into the slippery tub without falling, I do not notice that my mother removes her thong too, placing it on top of the pile of the clothes on the chair. She joins me in the tub, quick enough to not give me the opportunity to see her pussy.

Only our heads are sticking out above the foam. The warm water is soothing and warm. The privacy of the bubbles helps me reduce my self-consciousness. I regain my breath. And my heartbeat is finally slowing again. I curse silently for missing the opportunity to see my mother's pussy, but I hope to have a chance later, perhaps when she gets out of the tub. I smile thinking that I was afraid that she was going to have a bath with me wearing a bathing suit. I should worry less.

We are sitting at opposite ends of the tub. My mother notices my awkward grin. "Honey, there is no need to be shy. We are family. We should not have covered our bodies up in our household, but you know how prudish the past few decades have been. Especially in America."

"Stretch your legs son and enjoy the water. Jacuzzis are made for relaxing." She places her feet against the outside of my hips and her toes subtly start caressing me under water. "We are all human and we all worry about our bodies at times. But that is unnecessary. In fact, you should be very proud of your body. You are strong. Your skin is beautiful. And I hope you don't mind me saying this, but your manhood is very appealing. You turn me on. I want to be naked with you more often if that is OK with you."

Unable to formulate a proper response, I smile appreciatively.

My mother continues talking about how all people are self-conscious about their bodies. She claims that people always focus on what they don't like. In her opinion, people should focus instead on what they do like. I agree with her.

"Darling, did you know that I really like my wide Latina hips; they make me feel feminine. It was hard to find a dress for prom that fits well though. The fashion industry is trying to make me believe that my thighs are too big." We both laugh. I tell my mother about the remark that the psychologist made at the beginning of the school year about skinny girls. We laugh loudly.

After refilling our glasses, mom looks at me reassuringly and says: "It is so nice to be with you in a jacuzzi."

"Here son, have some strawberries." She gives me the bowl. As we continue talking, my mother's hands dive under water and she starts massaging and caressing my calves and feet. I offer some fruit, but she politely declines explaining that her hands are busy. I feed the last berry to my smiling mother, after which, I put the empty bowl on the side of the tub. Then I find the bravery to start playing with her feet too, mimicking her movement. I am enjoying the feeling of her heavenly strong ankles.

The bubbles are slowly disappearing. Our bodies are becoming visible. I start ogling my mom's breasts again. She notices it and wipes the few remaining bubbles of her chest. She lifts her breasts out of the water. "Do you like my breasts? Do you find me sexy? Do you know how big my tits are? Do you like the colour of my nipples?" Steadily, she fires question after question at me. "What do you think about the shape of my jugs? Do you prefer orbs that are further apart from each other than mine?"

Is she really asking me what I think of her sensual body?

"You're so hot mom," I mumble stumbling over words. My mom smiles seductively and continues fondling her knockers, pinching the nipples, and squeezing the globes. I love it.

The tip of my erect penis is sticking out of the water and my mother looks at it. "Son, are you happy with your body? Sorry for repeating myself, but you are a very handsome young man. Not too skinny. Are you working out? You look very strong and sexy. Can I tell you a secret? Your legs and buttocks are the sexiest on the planet." She squeezes one of my legs under water. "I was talking to the mother of your friend who had the pool party last week and she said that she could not stop staring at you. I think I am jealous." We laugh again.