Mom and the Police Officer Pt. 02

I picked out a few classy black heels for her. They weren't obscene, just dressy. Mom shrugged her shoulders and told one of the assistants her size. When the assistant came back, and mom sat down to put on the shoes, I stood above her trying to see up her skirt.

Her phone chimed once more and she paused to look at it. Her eyes became nervous again before she sighed and put her phone back down.

"Parker, can you help me put this one on, it has a lot of small straps," she asked me.

"Sure," I replied with some real surprise.

Mom crossed her legs and dangled her bare foot in front me. As I sat down in front of her, I could her see milky white thighs. I wanted to see more

"Could you put your foot on the ground," I asked as I pretended to struggle with the fancy heels.

She hesitated and then uncrossed her legs. I did my best to convince her that I wasn't trying to peek by focusing all my attention on getting those heels on. It must have worked because I sensed her legs relaxing, her knees falling apart, and I took the opportunity to glance up.

She was wearing black panties with a hint of lace. The lights in the store were bright and I could see bits of pubic hair poking out through the top sides of her panties. I continued my pretend struggle with the heels. I moved her feet around, moved the shoe around, all getting her legs spreading further and further apart.

Maybe because I was her son, but this whole time she was quite relaxed with me sitting between her legs. Her face was calm and her eyes were just looking around at the other racks of shoes. It was around this time I realized I had a bit of the perverse in myself. I wanted to see her embarrassed, see that face on her like the face she wore during her strip search.

So, I called over the assistant.

"Can you help me with this," I asked him. Mom almost sat up, her mouth open like she was about to say something, but she didn't. I smiled at her and she looked at me confused.

"Of course," said this college kid as he knelt beside me. Mom's knees were spread open a good foot apart. Her face was flushed. I could tell the employee was getting a good eyeful. His eyes kept darting up between mom's skirt and back down to her shoes which he fumbled with mindlessly.

Finally, all the straps were buckled and mom stood up to look at them in the mirror. Her cheeks were red with embarrassment.

The show at the shoe store continued for a little while longer. I took every opportunity to get mom's legs spread open. There were these pair of thigh high boots that you had to really straighten out your knee entirely to get on. Her thighs spread open almost three feet apart, her skirt bunching up towards her waist. There must have been at least five other shoppers there who, even standing, saw right up her skirt.

After that, I purposely dropped a pair of heels over the side of the bench and asked mom to pick them up. She bent over the bench, and the skirt rose almost to her ass cheeks. There was a large mirror behind us and her reflection pointed out to the passerby's who saw a dark shadow where her upper thighs came together which hinted at the start of her panties.

We eventually left the store with a couple of shoe boxes in hand and mom wearing one of my favorite pair of heels. They caused her to arch her back slightly, which made the flared skirt sit even higher up on her mid-thighs.

The day continued like this for hours. Mom would get the occasional text and ask me to help her with something. At a small clothing store with nothing but dresses, there was just one fitting room in the corner that faced out. It had red curtains which you had to pull closed. When I asked mom to try on this light blue sundress, she made a conscious effort to close those curtains completely.

But, about ten minutes later her phone texted again, and this time when she went to try on a different dress, she hesitated with the curtains and left them partially open at the sides. I moved to the opposite corner of the store and could see right into her dressing room. There was an overhead light which illuminated the room more than any part of the store.

Her back was towards me, and she was undressing down to her bra and panties. Her panties hugged her ass, with a bit of cheek peeking out beneath the cotton. The room had a mirror which she was facing and from which I could see her large breasts hanging down gently, covered and supported by a padded black bra.

There were other shoppers in the store. Some older husbands had migrated to where I was standing. They pretended to be browsing the racks, but every so often I noticed their faces dart up to catch mom trying on clothes. I think she must have known we could all see her, but her eyes never took notice.

My favorite store was Victoria's Secret. We passed by it and mom quickened her pace, but I paused her and suggested we go in. She looked like she was about to say no, but yet again just shrugged and walked in with me. The store felt a bit surreal, with a mom and son surrounded by all this lace and lingerie. I picked out a few unpadded lace bras for her and some lace panties. By now she was used to me choosing the racier style of clothing.

I waited for her outside the fitting rooms. The store was quiet and even the few employees who were there didn't seem to take much notice of us. I figured out of all the clothes so far, these pieces I would have to recommend her sight unseen. But, sure enough, after a couple minutes mom opened the door slightly and asked me how they fit.

She was wearing a dark red lace bra. There was no padding and I could see her chest heaving, her breath heavy with nerves. Her areolas were dark behind the lace and her nipples poked out from the cold mall air. Her stomach was flat with a few freckles and just the smallest hint of love handles around her wide hips. The panties were a matching set. Her labia and pubic hair pushed up against the dark lace.

I did my best to pretend like this was normal, like I wasn't ogling. I'm not sure she bought it. Her eyes were downcast, her cheeks flushed, her lips quivering. As soon as I said, "definitely get that one," she closed the door quickly.

A moment later and she shouted out for me, "Parker can you help me with this? I can't undo the strap."

"How can I help?" I replied nervously.

"Just come in here for a second," she said with a stutter.

I opened the fitting room door and closed it behind. Mom was turned away from me and I took a second to look down at her shapely ass, barely covered at all by a dark red thong.

"I can't get this clasp off," she said as her hands fumbled with the bra strap. I couldn't tell if she was doing this because of another text, or if she really needed help.

I too fumbled with the clasp for a little bit. Maybe a little bit longer than I needed, but I couldn't help eating up the sight in front of me. There was a floor length mirror and I could see my mom's face was downcast, her eyes closed like she was ashamed.

Finally, I got the clasp undone and started to pull the bra off. As my hands brushed up against the side of her breasts, as I felt her soft skin against my fingers, mom jumped away and mumbled, "Thank you! You can leave now."

I closed the door behind me. Her tits felt amazing, even the small feel that I got, and I wanted to see more.

We left the mall with dozens of bags in arm. Mom was wearing an opaque white blouse with three buttons undone at the top. You could see a hint of a lacy blue bra hugging her cleavage. Her skirt was still that black flared skirt and her shoes those same heels I picked out earlier. I stole as many glances as I could, helping load her bags into the car, watching her bend over the trunk, opening the driver's side door and watching her legs briefly spread open as she got in.

When we arrived home, dad was sitting in the living room, watching the news. He turned to us, looked at mom and said, smiling, "you look nice!"

Mom chuckled and replied, "Don't get used to this - who knew our son has such a taste for fashion."

I felt a bit insulted at that but just smirked, letting them have their moment. The rest of the weekend was uneventful. On Sunday mom was wearing one of the dresses I picked out for her. It was a modest piece, hanging just above knee length, that wrapped around her torso and gently snugged up against her breasts. I couldn't tell what she was wearing underneath.

Ch.3

Bill

Melissa walked in on a Monday afternoon looking better than I could have hoped. She had on a black knit dress which clung to her chest and hips. Through the material you could see the outline of her bra cups and straps. I gestured to the security room and she walked in without looking at me.

"You look lovely," I said as I leaned up against the table upon which I fucked her more times than I could count. She didn't reply, her eyes were looking off into the non-existent distance.

I continued, tauntingly, "your son must have good taste."

"Why? Why are you doing this to me? Why bring Parker into this? Are you contacting him, what does he know?"

She was right where I wanted her. I smirked.

"Get on your knees," I said, ignoring her questions.

She sighed and five minutes later I felt like violating her mouth so I came then and there, my hands shoving the back of her head deep onto my cock. She gagged, swallowed, and gagged again. When I released her, she was gasping for air.

"You know," I said as she was recovering, "you'd look nice in pearls. Do you have a pearl necklace?"

I gave her a second to respond between breaths, but she was silent. SMACK as I slapped her across the face.

"Answer me, bitch, I don't like repeating myself. Do you have a pearl necklace?"

"Yes, yes, I have one."

"For now on, you wear it and some nice earrings to match. You understand me?"

"Yes sir"

"Good, and tomorrow, wear red lace panties and don't you dare think of changing before our little meetings. I will know. Whatever you wear, you wear it all day. Got it?"

"Yes sir," she said with a sullen face.

"Good, now leave."

As she collected herself and started to walk out the door, I called out with a smile, "Oh and Melissa, pay my compliments to your son."

Parker

I never imagined mom would actually wear the clothing I chose for her. But when Monday rolled around and as I was getting ready for school, I spotted mom coming downstairs in one of the least provocative dresses I found. Nevertheless, it was still a dress I picked. She looked great in it.

During history class that day, mom was not herself. Instead of moving around class during her lecture, she kept seated behind her desk. I'm guessing it was her new work attire that she didn't want to be seen in. Truth be told, I felt bad for her. Then again, I was also happy to no longer see those sweaters and pants which made her look like a WASPy grandma.

During dinner, with dad and myself, at the table, mom was quiet. Dad was never very talkative, but mom was. She always leads the conversation. Occasionally she would look up at me like she wanted to say something, ask me something, but instead she just looked back down at her food. The tension was killing me.

"Are you okay, mom?" I asked.

"Yes, yes," she mumbled, "just a headache."

"Would you like an Advil?" dad asked.

She shrugged her shoulders and replied, "I'm sure it'll pass soon, honey."

And that was the extent of our dinner conversation. Later, as I was walking up to my room, mom confronted me.

"Parker, has someone... Has someone contacted you?" she asked. I could tell she was nervous.

I played naïve and replied, "What do you mean?"

"Just... you know what never mind. Parker, we're a family right. I know we don't talk about what happened a couple weeks ago. But we're in this together, right?"

"Are you sure you're okay," I asked again.

"Just... I need to hear you say that you're one my side. Just say you're on my side." Her lips were quivering. Did she suspect me of anything? I don't know. But she sure was making me feel guilty -- as if a large pill was in my throat that I couldn't swallow. But I had to go along with her. I couldn't back out now. And you know what, I didn't want to.

"I'm on your side, mom" I said with confidence as I approached her with a hug. Her eyes were moist with tears. I pressed myself against her and felt the fine material of her dress beneath my fingers, her breasts pushing up against my chest.

"I'm sorry I'm so emotional -- you shouldn't see me like this," she said as I released the hug.

"That's okay, I'm sure you'll feel better in the morning. Goodnight."

"'night, Parker."

And with that I went to bed, feeling more ashamed than ever.