Mom Prom

*****All characters in the story are 18 years of age or older*****

As I slide up the Double Windsor knot of my tie, my stomach knots itself in a similar way. The dread of the upcoming evening percolates in my gut. I wish I could say I believed my mother when she told me this year would be different from the previous three, but I know deep down that it's another lie.

I go to a private high school in the Western Suburbs of Chicago. Every year around Mother's Day, the school hosts a mother/son dance for the boys and their moms. We've always jokingly called it the Mom Prom because the mothers usually make a big deal out of it resulting in a Prom-like atmosphere.

It's usually a great time for everyone despite the Oedipal overtones of the colloquial name; for everyone except me, that is. For some reason, my mom thinks this day is a perfect excuse to get all dolled up in some fancy, expensive outfit. Don't get me wrong, most of the moms do, but most of the moms aren't Instagram fitness models.

For the last three years, my mom has accompanied me in some outrageously sexy, ultra revealing mini-dress or something equally inappropriate that looks as though it has been painted on. As you might expect, this had led to years of abuse from my classmates telling me about how hot of a MILF my mom is, like I didn't already know. The worst part is hearing the constant berating from the upperclassmen about how they're going to fuck my mom.

The only reprieve this year is that I'm a senior and the underclassmen won't try to fuck with me, but that won't stop the rest of my classmates. Despite the awkwardness of the conversation, I finally gathered the courage to tell my mom what every one of my friends and classmates say about her. I pleaded for her to be like a normal mom and tone it down for my sake. She promised that she would, but with a caveat that she still had a reputation to uphold and needed to be fashionable for her followers. I can only imagine what that means.

Last year she wore a silver evening gown that practically looked like liquid metal dripping down her curves. Her ample bosom and cleavage were on full display, and the dress had a slit that showed so much thigh that if any of the girls wore a dress like that, they'd be sent home for a dress code violation. I'll give her credit though, she keeps it tight and she definitely knows how to get the attention of every man in the room.

The other moms are fully covered, most of them in frumpy, decades old gowns and dresses that do nothing to compliment their aged and overweight bodies. The few other moms that could be considered attractive wear modest dresses that are fashionable but not showy. Unfortunately my mom gets an unfathomable amount of clothing sent to her from designers and clothiers for her to wear as an influencer. I don't know who she thinks she's influencing at a High School mother/son dance, but it isn't the audience she's hoping for.

I must admit though, the freebies are a neat perk. It's great for her and provides the family with a lot of cool clothes, trips, food, etc., but it is exhausting always having to worry about her getting the perfect picture showing off whatever paid for our day. I won't tell you her name here, but she's associated with other fitness models/mothers on Instagram like Emma Glover or Jala Sue. Go ahead and take a look at their profiles and imagine being a high school student with that as your mom. That is what I have to deal with.

Pretty much every one of my classmates has my mom's Instagram page and OnlyFans page on bookmark. Thankfully she doesn't do nudes, but my horror multiplied exponentially after the first Mom Prom when the seniors learned they had a model in the school. One particular asshole introduced me to her OnlyFans page the next day. What a lovely way to learn that your mom is practically a soft core porn star.

I was embarrassed and angry and confused and oddly turned on. I had never seen my mother in that way before. In the picture I was shown, she wore nothing but black stockings and a pair of black pumps and was posing on her bed. Again, she didn't show anything X-rated. It was what is called an implied nude, but I had only ever previously seen her fitness related content. She was attractive, but I didn't see her as sexy. That picture blew my mind. I developed an obsession with black stockings. Instant boner alert if I even saw a woman wearing nylons, imagining if they were lace top thigh highs like the ones I saw my mom in that day.

It almost became a debilitating sickness. I would often find models online that looked like my mother, especially if they modeled in stockings. Finally, I broke down and searched for the picture of my mother that had caused me such anguish. I'm ashamed to admit that I came twice that day looking at that picture. Unfortunately, it wasn't the last. No matter how hard I tried and how much I tried to stay away, that picture was burned into my brain to stay.

My mom didn't wear stockings often, but when she did, I couldn't help but stare at her legs. They were like a vice and my eyes were trapped in their grip. I'm sure she noticed, but she had never mentioned anything about it to me. She usually had the attention of most men, so it wasn't anything she wasn't used to.

This year, a few of my friends and I were all traveling together. The moms rented a stretched Navigator for the night and planned on going out in style. We lived about 30 minutes from the school in the Southwest Suburbs, but the rest of my friends lived closer to the school in the Western Suburbs. The limo would pick us up first and then grab everyone else. Usually we'd all just meet up at one of their houses, but the moms decided that they wanted to drink in the limo beforehand.

I swallowed my fear and made my way to the living room to wait on the limo and my mother. I sat patiently on the sofa while my mother put on the finishing touches in her room upstairs. My dad came in from the kitchen with a beer looking like he was settling in for an evening watching baseball.

"All ready for your last Mother-Son dance huh?" He said as he sat in his chair and flipped on the TV.

"Yeah, I guess, as soon as Mom comes down."

"Ha," he laughed. "You know her. She won't be ready until she absolutely has to be."

I bet you're wondering why I don't say anything to my dad. Well, he's worse than my mom. He encourages her to dress and act the way she does. If I said anything about how my friends want to fuck his wife, he would be more proud than upset. But, I guess I can't blame him. At 44, he has a smoking hot wife who pulls in money and loads of free swag just for being hot. According to him, he hit the jackpot, and to be honest, he's probably right.

I relegated myself to sitting on the couch, wringing my sweaty hands in silence, as I waited for my date. I continued to hold out a sliver of hope that she would come down the stairs in something decent. I just stared out the window as I ran scenarios through my head, preparing comebacks for the punchlines that were surely to come my way. At last, I glimpsed the white Navigator as it pulled up to the house.

My dad yells up to his wife, " Hey Babe, you may want to wrap things up. Your chariot awaits and its best not to keep your chauffeur from his duties."

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "Come on mom, let's go!" I hollered. "Everyone else will be waiting on us."

It still took another few minutes and I had to peek out the front door to motion to the driver that we needed a minute or two. Finally, my mother graced us with her presence as she seductively sauntered down the stairs, taking each step with her feet turned to the side, so as not to misstep with her heels.

My heart leaped up into my throat when I saw her. My eyes traced her body like in one of those old time movies where the camera pans up from the bottom. She wore black Louboutin stilettos with the red sole and an impossibly thin and high heel. Her long legs were on display in the shortest of black micro-dresses. The bodice clung to her curves, her breasts fighting to break free from the camisole. Spaghetti straps strained to hold the dress up around her neck. The dress was backless, save for the crisscrossing of 4 additional spaghetti straps in the back, with the skirt beginning just below her back dimples.

It was clear that she wore no undergarments. It would be impossible for her to hide them in such a revealing dress. Her auburn hair held a slight curl as it draped over her shoulders. Despite her 40 years, she wore little makeup, but still looked as youthful as ever. Bold eyeliner and false lashes highlighted her face with her lips and nails sporting a matching splash of red to go along with her Louboutins.

Despite all this, it was the black stockings on her legs that caught my attention. They were impossibly sheer and made her legs glisten as she made her way down the steps. My eyes were transfixed. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. My cock twitched in my pants as it awakened to the sight of the fantasy I had held for the past three years. I was furious with my mom, but at the same time, I was frustratingly aroused.

"Wow, I guess all that extra time was worth it!" My dad exclaimed from the chair, finally diverting his attention from the game.

"I wanted to go out with a bang for the last Mother-Son Dance," my mother cooed. "Do you think this will make all the other moms jealous?"

Her and my dad continued with their stupid game.

"I'd be more worried about what they call you behind your back," I muttered under my breath.

"What was that, Marty?" Mom asked.

"I said we better be going. We're already late." I retorted as I held open the door.

Mom gracefully joined me at the door as we finally headed out.

"You two have fun," Dad called out from the couch. "Make sure you take good care of your mother tonight, Marty. Show her a good time."

I closed the door and tried to hurry my mom to the limo before any of the neighbors saw us. The driver held the door open and not so discreetly eyed my mother as she climbed into the car, her dress rising ever so slightly to show the lace top of her stockings. The driver caught me staring and gave me a knowing look before he smiled and winked as he shut the door and made his way back to the front.

After a few minutes of exploring the perks of the limo, my mother poured herself a glass of champagne and I turned on some music. We sat in silence for the first fifteen minutes or so as we headed to pick up my friends and their moms. I did my best to avoid looking at my mom, but it was incredibly difficult to keep my eyes from wandering to her legs. I sighed out loud as I realized this dance was going to prove even more difficult than the last three.

"What's wrong baby?" My mom asked as she put a hand on my leg.

I looked at her and rolled my eyes.

"You're kidding, right?"

"This again? I thought that you would like this outfit. I picked it out especially for you."

"It's lovely Mom, you look amazing." I said sarcastically. "I can't wait to hear how amazing you look from all my friends."

"Well your friends aren't the ones who will be taking me home tonight!" She giggled.

I couldn't believe her cavalier attitude. Clearly she didn't care about how her outfits affected my life. This was all a joke to her. I turned up the music for the rest of the ride and stewed in my misery.

It only took about 10 minutes until we started picking up my friends and their moms, but it felt like an eternity sitting in silence. Mike and his mom, Denise were first, followed by Chris and his mom Claire. They were both overweight and middle aged women who felt like they could relive their youth through my mom, so of course they were thrilled with my Mom's outfit.

"Oh, you look so amazing."

"Who made your dress?"

"Are those REAL Louboutins?"

"Which company sent you all this jewelry?"

My mom loved the attention. Of course, what she didn't notice was Mike and Chris drooling over her and trying to sneak peeks up her dress as she adjusted in her seat.

We finally got to the last stop to pick up Patrick and his mom, Carole. We all got out for a few pre-dance pictures with the group. All the moms had champagne glasses in hand, and my mom already had at least two in her belly. She wasn't drunk, but it was obvious that she was feeling loose and flirtatious. She was the life of the party, as always. All the men hung on her every word.

As we filed back into the limo, Mike tried to shove me out of the way to assist my mom into the car. For the first time in my young-adult life, Mom did something that actually made me smile.

"Oh, thank you for the offer Mike. That's really sweet of you, but Marty's my date tonight. He'll help me in."

The look on Mike's face was that of pure rejection. I couldn't help but to laugh in his face as I took my mom's hand and helped her up into the limo, making sure to block Mike from getting a look at her legs and up her dress as she climbed aboard.

Once Mom was in the car, I climbed up and turned back to Mike.

"Dumbass!" I growled as I flipped him the finger.

The rest of the ride was short but chaotic. The guys hung out up front while the moms drank and chittered away, giggling and gossiping all the way to the school. It sounded like we were stuck in the tropical bird house at Brookfield Zoo. Even the music couldn't put a dent in the noise these women could make.

We finally got to the school, and as we exited the limo, the guys were still giving Mike a hard time about his failed attempt with my mom. If anything, it at least helped me to relax as we made our way inside. The women left their champagne flutes behind and joined their sons for the procession.

My mother put her arm in mine. I thought I might have to hold her up as she attempted to walk in her stilettos after all that booze, but to her credit, she was able to not only hold herself up straight, but also walked with a slight saunter in her hips that I could feel as she brushed up against me.

The dance was a really elaborate affair for being held in a high school gymnasium. I'm pretty sure the school put a bigger effort into this dance than it did for the actual Prom two weeks later. It was well decorated and catered by one of the more reputable restaurants in town. The best part was that every year they actually sprung for a band instead of one of those washed up DJs that just play crappy wedding reception music.

As we made our way inside to do the obligatory dance portraits, I could feel every man and boy gawking at my mother. The Freshman weren't so subtle in their stares, but the upperclassmen all nudged their buddies and nodded at my mom as she strode past, every one of them waiting for the moment where they would try to dance with her.

She certainly was making a scene. Even the principal, Mr. Withers, was at a loss for words when he welcomed us and presented my mother with a rose, as he did for every mom. My mom thanked him as if it were the best gift she'd ever received, eliciting an awkward smile from the balding older man.

We all gathered and chatted and danced as the evening got going. Thankfully, Mom insisted on dancing with me, so any guys who were hoping to steal a dance with my mom were left disappointed and hoping for an opportunity after dinner.

I was glad I didn't have to watch her flirt with my friends, but it was still awkward to have her so close to me dressed the way she was. I was trying to have a good time, but I was afraid to put my hands on her. Her dress was so thin that it almost felt like I was putting my hands on her bare hip.

"I'm glad you're finally trying to enjoy yourself at one of these." Mom whispered as she leaned into my ear.

"Well, I guess I relaxed a bit when you crushed Mike back at the limo."

She threw her head back and let out a laugh.

"I thought you might enjoy that."

"I really did." I admitted.

We finished the dance and my mom took my hand to lead me back to our table as dinner was about to be served, much to the dismay of all the other students out on the dance floor. My mom may still have been dressed inappropriately, but at least she wasn't embarrassing me as much as usual.

Dinner was delicious yet uneventful. The moms continued their drinking as each had a glass of wine with dinner. It seemed as though it was finally starting to have an effect on my mom, as her flirting started to occur more frequently. I was happy continuing to sit and let my food digest, but Mike was insistent upon everyone getting back on the dance floor.

Of course my mom was eager, and she managed to drag everyone else at our table back to the floor. It seemed harmless at first, as we all danced in a big group, but when a slow song came on, Mike finally pushed in and made his move on my mom.

She relented and gave Mike what he had been yearning for all night. I reluctantly danced with frumpy Denise, who was dressed in what can only be described as a 70s floral print couch cover. I was just happy that she was fully covered, but still, I was afraid to touch her and her gelatinous body even more than I was with my own mother.

Mike looked at me with a shit eating grin. I fucking hated him. He kept trying to place his hand on my mom's bare back or on her ass, but she wasn't completely off her game from the alcohol. Everytime he made a move to touch her, she grabbed his hand and moved it back to her shoulder.

I flipped him the bird again as I watched them dance, but Denise insisted on trying to distract me.

"I'm so glad that you're actually joining all of us on the dance floor this year, Marty. Isn't this such fun?"

"Yeah Mrs. Vandenberg. This is great."

"It's sad that this will be our last Mother / Son dance with you kids. I'm just so proud of the men you all have become."

I scoffed.

"Well, you better wrangle up your little man before he tries to bite off more than he can chew." I quipped as I nodded toward Mike and my mom.

Mike was still trying to ever so casually move his hands to my mom's body. He even attempted to dip my mom. She finally put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him away.

"Okay, I think you've had enough." My mom lectured Mike. "Denise, I think you need to take him back."

Mike walked past, again dejected.

"You're such an idiot." I said as I laughed at him.

Mom pulled me into an embrace and smoothly placed one of my hands on her back and the other on her hip as she somehow maneuvered herself into the dip Mike was trying so hard to perform.

"Wow." I exclaimed. "What was that about, Mom?"

"I figured it would piss off Mike. I really don't like that little shit."

My mom's eyes went wide as she said it and she covered her mouth with both hands after accidentally letting her true feelings slip.

I laughed a little too hard.

"Neither do I. Why did you even let him dance with you?" I asked.

"Honestly, I did it to give Denise a break. Poor lady has to deal with her son drooling over me all night. Figured she might want a few minutes away from him, but that was all I could muster."

"Well Mom, it's nice to hear that you feel the same way I do."

"I thought Mike was your friend?"

"Hell no. He went to grade school with Patrick and Chris, so I'm kinda stuck with him. I've hated him since Freshman year."

"Oh!" She exclaimed. "Well now I don't feel quite as bad. Sorry for encouraging him all these years."

Then she leaned in close and whispered in my ear.

"Let's give him a real show to make him jealous."

I had no idea what she meant by that and to be completely honest, I was a little scared to find out. At least she wasn't embarrassing me like the prior years. I was willing to basically do anything to piss off Mike. He was such a douche and always talked a big game, but never backed it up. I had always wanted to just reach deep and punch him as hard as I could, right in the nose. Perhaps whatever my mom had in mind would be even better.