Mum's Public Offering

Blanche had spent the occasion of her 65^th birthday in mourning. She was officially a senior citizen, a relic in a culture that celebrated youth to such an exaggerated degree that immaturity was honored over wisdom. Gray locks and a crinkled complexion proclaimed to the entire world that expectations and desires were things of her past. That wretched birthday had not been simply a number. It was a line of demarcation. It made her feel officially undesirable as a woman. Her husband's lack of interest towards her confirmed what the mirror told her every morning. Blanche had begun moving through each day as if she belonged to a segregated class of untouchables, the sexually shunned.

Her 43-year-old daughter, Claire was her salvation. Blanche did not permit herself to think about the nature of that salvation. Her initial resistance to Claire's assertive advances had collapsed completely. Even more powerful a tool of seduction than rekindled desire within her, had been the realization that she was the object of another's sexual appetite. She made a gift of herself to her daughter. Blanche did not doubt that a day would eventually arrive at her doorstep when she would regret subjugating herself to desire and lust, but she reveled in the simple fact that until the demons of that day broke down her door, to drag her off to hell, she had both purpose and passion left in life.

"We'll have lunch here, Mom," Claire announce abruptly. It was a small café, the sort that seemed better suited for illicit rendezvous or preludes to afternoon trysts than a memorable meal. Claire had decided and Blanche followed happily. "I found this place a few weeks back with Tom," Claire disclosed as the two ladies crossed the threshold. "I've been wanting to bring you here for your coming out."

Blanche balked. "What do you mean, Claire? What do you mean about my coming out?"

"The last two entries in your journal have involved aspects of behaving as my Mum in a public setting."

Blanche felt a flush of excitement between her legs. Anxiety flowed through the rest of her being. They had missed the lunch crowd. Only a handful of customers remained towards the front of the café. Claire led her mother towards the very back wall, where Blanche spotted Claire's husband, Tom seated at a table. Her anxiety became a full panic. She clutched hold of her daughter's sleeve and dragged them both to a pause. "You can't possibly want me to expose myself in front of Tom. Claire, what can you be thinking?"

"You've as much as confessed to me that you want to feel desired by others, by men. You've written about it in your journal, our book of secrets. Besides, you flow like a river whenever I'm playing with you and make the suggestion that we should post a video of you submitting to me like a proper Mum."

"That's different, Claire! You know that's different. It's fantasy...and even if you did make me submit to such a video, strangers would only see it. This is your husband, Claire. Do you have any understanding of what you're risking...of us both?"

"Sit, Mum." The simple command ended the debate. Tom and Blanche exchanged stiff pleasantries. It was immediately clear to Blanche that Tom was not simply surprised to discover that his lunch date with Claire would include his mother-in-law, he was unsettled. The young man who would be their waiter arrived. Claire was in here assertive mode. She issued instructions without deliberation. "You can bring us three wines. I'll order lunch in just a bit," He disappeared towards the front of the café with only a requisite acknowledgment of the other two. The wine was delivered and he quickly disappeared once again. Claire permitted her husband and Mum to sip in silence, to let the wine settle their nerves for a few minutes, before taking hold of the reigns once more.

"The only way we'll make progress in this is for the both of you to share your secrets with each other and understand how much alike you are. Since I'm starving and in no mood to wait for one or the other of you to begin, I'll start you off. Mummy, you should know that Tommy gets his bottom tenderized by the same brush that tans your lovely fanny. If there's a difference it's that you have a much higher threshold for the discipline then he does. Your appetite increases with each stroke and even the bristled side of the brush is tolerated. Whereas, humiliation is Tom's favorite dish."

Neither Blanche nor Tom shifted their gaze from the tabletop. Claire ordered lunch for the three of them and a second round of drinks. As the waiter turned to walk away, Claire disclosed another intimacy. "Tom knows that you're my concubine, Mum. In a way you've made him a cuckold. Since you've become my Mum, I no longer let him inside me." The waiter stuttered in his retreat from their table.

"I'm sorry, Tom," Blanche whispered, a tremor in her voice. Her eyes never strayed from the white linen covering the tabletop. It struck her as wholly inappropriate that white was being worn.

Tom touched the sleeve the elder woman. "It's alright, Blanche. Things are good for me." He paused. Courage, a requisite to disclosing intimacies of such a sexual nature, was pulled up from the pit of his belly. "Claire is completely truthful when she tells you that humiliation...and degradation are what I crave most in sex."

Claire elaborated. "Tommy would rather have access to your soiled knickers Mum, than to mount me. How humiliating is that for me? He has the option to take me as any man would take his wife. All he must do is give-up his lust affair with your undergarments. He can't bring himself to do that. In a way, you're a Mum to us both."

Blanche hugged her daughter. "I love you both."

Claire reciprocated the sentiment, then shifted gears and tone. "That's all fine and good, but we came in here as daughter and Mum. Why are you still dressed as my mom?" Blanche began to protest the impossibility of complying with her daughter's dress code in the café, but terminated her objection as the waiter appeared with their meals. " As my Mum, she's not permitted to cover any bits of flesh that I might want to see...or touch...or violate," Claire disclosed to Tom, without regard to the proximity of the waiter. The two men and Blanche reacted in exactly the same manner. Their jaws dropped open. The waiter loitered at their table much longer than he might otherwise.

"Oh my god, Claire, how could you do that? That man...and Tom must think I'm a complete slut."

Claire was unapologetic. "Before you begin eating, Mum, you need to get yourself into the ladies room and remove your undergarments. Come back to the table when you're presentable." If Tom had an objection, he did not voice it. Claire did not waiver. "I want to have lunch with my Mum. I'm quite certain that Tom would like to have lunch with Mum as well." The elder woman's heart began beating like the wings of a hummingbird as she pushed back her chair, rose to her feet and on wobbly legs, made her way to the women's lavatory. "When Mum comes back to the table, Tommy, I want you to ask her for her discarded items and go put them on. I want this lunch to be with both of my girls"

For the first time rebellion stirred within Tom. He objected. Claire smiled indulgently as he railed against the directive. She knew how to handle his obstinacy. "You know the rules. I've grown quite comfortable with having my sissy rather than a man in the bedroom, but if you'd rather discard your sissy role, I'll accept that decision. However, we'll not oscillate on this matter. You must choose to be my husband or my sissy? I'll not tolerate anything in between. One foot on the dock and one in the boat will not do. Now, did you leave the house today wearing something properly delicate?"

The rebellious fire was extinguished with Tom. "Yes," he whispered.

"What did you wear, besides panties?"

Tom unbuttoned his suit jacket to reveal a satin blouse rather than a man's shirt. Claire began to compliment her Tom when she was distracted by the return of her Mum. Without a brassiere underneath, the blouse she wore could not completely conceal her breasts. The problem was magnified by the simple fact that Claire had insisted her mother wear a blouse that was a size too tight. Two convex bubbles in the material disclosed the exact position of her protruding nipples. "You've got your headlights on high beam, Mum. Are you excited by all this?" Without offering an answer, Blanche simply presented herself to her daughter. She stood with eyes closed as Claire unfastened the top two buttons of her mother's blouse, paused a bit to give the woman false hope that the worst was over, and then loosened a third button. To keep her breasts concealed, Blanche was obligated to hold the two halves of the garment in place. "There, Claire proclaimed, that should keep the material loose enough to prevent your teats from pushing the fabric out." Before inviting the woman to sit and eat, Claire gave a nod to her husband.

"Blanche...mum...mummy, may I borrow your things...your undergarments."

Blanche did not react with surprise or disdain. When she turned to face him, Tom was surprised to find her smiling. "Are you planning to wear them now?"

"May I?"

Blanche transferred the undergarments to her son-in-law. Deliberately she let the front of her blouse open as she bent forward for him. Layer upon layer of the years had caused her breasts to slouch and to loose the clichéd fullness of ripe melons. Still, their unveiling sucked the air from Tom's lungs. He stared with unblinking amazement at the old woman's long and rigid nipples. They were disproportionate in length to her breast size. Despite the sag of her breasts, the nipples were fully erect. They were as much as aimed straight at Tom. He was captivated.

Blanche drew him from his trance. "I'm afraid that the knickers are quite soiled, Tom. Our Claire had her fingers up me earlier, as part of my stretching exercises and afterwards, she refused to let me change. She insisted that she had other purposes for them. It seems that you're her other purpose. I hope they're not too gooey for your liking...for your taste in such things." Claire's chuckle emboldened her mother. "Why don't you leave your suit jacket and tie here. I'd rather like to see how you look dressed as me."

Tom complied with the suggestions of his mother-in-law. His jacket and tie were discarded. It would not occur to him until later, when it was too late, that the thin material of his white blouse would not conceal the darker flesh tone of the borrowed brassiere underneath. As soon as Tom had left the table, and Blanche could sit long enough to begin to eat, the young waiter returned to the two women. He inquired about the quality of their meal, lingered to insist that anything that was not to their preference could and would be corrected, and stayed on to inquire about their day. Both mother and daughter realized that he was standing deliberately to the side of Blanche, permitting an unobstructed view down her blouse. The embarrassment of granting men a look at her breasts and nipples was dissipating for Blanche. She began to feel intoxication from the attention.

"I'm afraid that they've become more like hanging udders than breasts," Blanche quipped, taking a sip of her wine. She turned just enough to face the young man that the two bits of her unbuttoned blouse opened for him. This man's reaction was the same as Tom's had been when Blanche had turned her erections towards him. "Do you think it inappropriate, perhaps disgusting that a woman my age should expose herself?" The young man's trousers were tented. Blanche felt her whole being become swelled with pride.

"You're beautiful. Not inappropriate and certainly not disgusting. Simply beautiful...and sexy," he managed to mutter. His stare did not stray any further than to shift focus from one rigid nipple to the other.

Claire intruded. "Are you married?"

The man shook his head. "I have a girlfriend and we've talked about marriage," he conceded.

"I imagine she must have solid...properly firm breasts," Blanche suggested, deliberately shifting her upper body in order to cause her distended udders to sway.

The man pulled himself from his trance. "Oh, they're fine...but nothing at all like you...like this. You're simply gorgeous," he reiterated.

Tom had returned to the table, but did not sit or interrupt. Claire redirected his attention. "The woman you've been drooling over is my mum, Blanche. She's old enough to be your grand mum. This is my husband, Tom." The young man shook Tom's hand. The borrowed brassiere was perfectly visible underneath Tom's blouse. "Tom is my sissy-cuckold husband," Claire elaborated, between bites of her lunch. Being described to another man in just those terms caused Tom's eyes to glaze and his trousers to become fully tented. "Don't let yourself believe the stories about cuckolds and sissies having an undersized penis," Claire advised the waiter. "Tom has always been a bit too well endowed for my comfort. There's just so much that a woman can fit comfortably inside herself...even when she's young and a bit more pliable. Is your girlfriend pliable?"

The young man's face contorted with confusion. He stiffened momentarily when the implication of Claire's question came within reach of his understanding. He began to object. Blanche felt no heat in the passion of his objections. She inserted herself. "When you go home tonight, young man, you should take your girlfriend to the bedroom, remove her garments so that you can suckle at her firm, young breasts and purge thoughts of my sacs from your mind." Boldly, Blanche pulled her blouse open to expose her nipples and breasts one final time for both Tom and the young man.

Claire beamed with approval. Her own knickers began to grow damp from desire for Blanche. "Mum, why don't you give this nice young man a look underneath as well?"

"Claire!"

"Well, you could at least ask if he'd like to take a peek."

"Well, young man, would something like that satisfy you? If I give you a good look under my skirt, would thoughts of my wrinkled, sagging tits be purged? You could then focus your lust exclusively upon your fiancée-to-be." Claire nodded and Blanche pivoted in her chair so that she was facing the waiter and her son-in-law. With the deliberate pace of a woman seducing her audience, Blanche spread her legs while lifting the hem of her skirt. The elder woman was on full display. The men groaned in unison at the vision. Claire did not seek permission, nor beg forgiveness when she reached forward, took hold of each wing of her mum's outer labia and spread them wide. It was not a dark abyss, but an ageless, glistening and fully aroused vagina that stared back at them all. Claire deliberately touched the hood of her mum's clitoris, evoking a gasp and a shudder from the old woman. Both women began to flow with a synchronized lust.

Claire ruled that the luncheon date was finished. Tom was instructed to give Claire and Blanche a bit of time to get home and to have some daughter and mum play, before joining them. She left the time frame vague to give him something to agonize over while he waited. Before leaving, Claire paid the check, pressing into the waiter's palm a slip of paper with her phone number, wrapped about a generous tip. "You needn't tell me your name or the name of your girlfriend," she instructed. "Simply call that number when you need to learn what it would be like to have sex with your grand mum and your girlfriend's been talked into wanting to be stretched beyond her limits by a very well endowed sissy. "Mind you," she warned, as she and Blanche were leaving, "it's both of you or nothing."