Mum's Sexual Re-Awakening Pt. 02

Part 2: Girls' Night Out

I normally ring mum at the weekend, but on the next Wednesday evening I was at a loose end, so I gave her a call. She was delighted to hear from me, but then her tone of voice changed and she asked if everything was OK, as people do if you call unexpectedly. I told her I was fine, but had just called to say hello and see how she was. She told me that she was OK, though she'd felt very hungover on Monday morning.

"I woke up about 3 in the morning, still fully dressed -- if you can call that outfit being fully dressed -- and still on the sofa. I was bursting for a pee, had a splitting headache, and my mouth felt dry as a desert."

"Sorry about that," I said, "I feel a bit responsible."

"Oh, don't apologise," mum said, "I had a great time."

"So how are things on the social front?" I asked her, "Any more invites from the supermarket girls?"

"Well, as it happens," mum replied, "I've been invited to join a pub crawl on Saturday."

"Excellent," I said, "That sounds fun."

"Well, I don't even know if they were intending to invite me, I just happened to walk in the staff room when they were discussing it. And they're all quite young, I'm old enough to be their mother."

"But you said 'Yes', didn't you," I wanted to know.

"Yes," mum confirmed, "I thought; to hell with it, I haven't been out for a while. I just hope it doesn't prove too expensive, what with the price of drinks."

"If you wear that outfit I bought you on Sunday, you'll probably have men queuing up to buy you drinks," I told her.

"Oh, I don't know whether I could wear that, there's rather too much of me on show," mum said doubtfully.

"That's what makes it so sexy," I assured her, "You look really great in it. And if it's a younger group you're going out with, some of them are bound to be flashing the flesh as well, so I'm sure you won't feel out of place."

"I'll think about it," mum said.

"You do that," I said.

However, when I rang next Sunday, about midday as usual, there was no reply, which was a bit concerning, as mum would always be at home waiting for my call. I left a message saying I would ring later. I called back about 4 pm, and to my relief mum answered.

"Sorry I missed your call," mum said, "I didn't get home till about 2 this afternoon, I stayed the night with one of the girls."

"No worries," I said, "As long as you're OK."

"Well," mum said, a bit sheepishly, "We shared a taxi back to this girl's place, and I was so drunk, she told me to stop the night on her sofa."

"You're beginning to make a habit of spending the night on a sofa," I quipped. "Anyway, sounds like you must have had a good evening."

"Yes, I did have a really good time, once I was too drunk to care," mum said.

"And did you summon up the courage to wear your new outfit?" I asked her.

"Well, I tried it on, but I was in two minds whether to take it off again, I felt a bit ridiculous with my fat belly on show bulging out over the waistband," mum replied.

"Look mum," I tried to reassure her, "I know you've put on weight, but you are definitely not fat. Your tummy isn't all flabby like some women's, it's firm and round, and complements your boobs perfectly. If you had a flat tummy you'd look all out of proportion. And that top showcases your boobs admirably."

"Well, anyway, for better or worse I decided to leave it on," mum confirmed.

"Excellent," I said delightedly, "You must tell me all about it."

Mum hesitated. "I'm afraid I may have ended up making a bit of a fool of myself, I got so drunk."

"Look mum," I said, "I'm the one that's been encouraging you to go out and have fun. After all you've been through, I'm not about to chastise you if you over did it a bit."

"Well," she said, "We'll see about that."

So this is the story I pieced together from what she told me and all the extra details I asked her.

Mum said that they had arranged to meet at a local pub for a couple of drinks before going on into town. The girls were mostly wearing quite sexy outfits, with plenty of cleavage on view, a couple with bare midriffs, and several with very short skirts. So mum didn't feel too conspicuous spilling out of her undersized skin-tight stretchy outfit. But she badly needed some Dutch courage, so she put away two large glasses of wine before they caught the bus into town.

They didn't stop long in the first pub they visited in town, as it was too quiet, so mum rather regretted buying another large glass of wine. At this rate it could prove a very expensive night out, so she decided that she would only buy herself one more drink, and if no-one offered to buy her any more, she would cut her losses and get the bus home again.

The next pub was more to their liking as it was a lot livelier, and mum decided to make her drink last longer by having a pint of lager. The other girls were mostly knocking back shorts, at quite an impressive rate, and a couple of them were already quite giggly. There was some debate as to the next port of call, mostly regarding which pub was likely to have the most fit young men in it. By the time they moved on, mum realised she was already quite drunk, and feeling less self conscious about the way she looked. "They can like it or lump it," she told me. After all the wine and the beer she was also in need of the toilet, but didn't want to get left behind when the others decided to leave.

The next pub did have more single men in it, and as it was now getting later in the evening, they had drunk enough to lose any inhibitions they might have had about approaching women. And they didn't waste any time trying their luck with the supermarket girls. Despite her need to pee, mum didn't want to be left out and forego the possibility of being bought a drink, but the men made a bee-line for the prettier younger ones, and she was fully expecting to be passed by.

Mum was was just beginning to wonder if it had been a bad idea to go out with a much younger group, but to her surprise and relief she found herself being offered a drink by a passably good-looking man of about thirty. Mum beamed at him with gratitude and said she'd love a glass of white wine.

"Any particular sort?" the man enquired, and mum cheekily replied: "Oh, a large one."

"That's my girl," the man said, laughing.

"That's quite a revealing outfit you have on," he said appreciatively, once he had got mum her drink, "I like a girl who makes the most of her assets."

"I think I need to reduce my assets a little," mum said, patting her tummy.

"Nonsense," the man countered, "Whatever women's magazines and the ads might lead you to believe, you don't have to be stick thin to be sexy."

He put his arm round mum's exposed waist and gave it a good squeeze. She responded by turning to face him, so that her chest was nudging his. She naturally felt really pleased that this man appeared to find her so attractive, and said that she would have quite fancied him, if his breath hadn't reeked of cigarettes. Although mum was finding it increasingly difficult to disguise her efforts to contain her full bladder, she was so seduced by his complements and enjoying his attention that she didn't want to interrupt things. With his hand still firmly clasping mum's waist, he drew her in so that her boobs and tummy were squeezed against him.

As her need to pee became ever more insistent, mum couldn't help starting to fidget and squirm, and was sure she could feel his growing erection pressing against her swollen bladder, which she had to admit she found very exciting. Mum wasn't sure if he realised her predicament, or whether he just thought she was getting amorous with him. So mum was a bit disappointed when one of the other girls announced that they were moving on. She thanked the man for the drink, and steeled herself for a nicotine flavoured goodbye kiss. She told the girls she was bursting and asked if they could wait whilst she had a pee. As they left the pub mum noticed she wasn't the only one who was finding it impossible to walk in a straight line.

The next pub they went in was pretty crowded. As she approached the bar, mum looked to see if there was anyone likely to buy her a drink. She paused in front of a group of younger men, who looked her up and down, and a couple even smiled at her, but disappointingly they didn't seem inclined to buy her a drink.

But then she heard someone call out: "Come over here darling, let's have a better look at you." The voice belonged to one of three men, all older than mum, all obviously drunk, and all laughing at her. These were clearly not the sort of men that mum wanted to get too friendly with, but on the other hand, if she could get a drink out of them, she was willing to humour them for a few minutes until her party moved on. So she said: "I will, if you buy me a drink," to which they readily agreed, and before long she was adding another pint of lager to all the alcohol in her belly.

Their conversation was pretty raucous, with plenty of jokes at mum's expense and impudent questions. As mum was so obviously unsteady on her feet, it gave the one standing behind her the perfect excuse to put his arms round her, and he presently moved his hands up to avail himself of a surreptitious grope of mum's boobs. Mum was quite drunk enough to tolerate this while she supped her drink, but once she had finished it she went to rejoin her pals. Presently they decided to move on to another pub. Mum and one of the other girls were by this time staggering so badly they had to hold onto each other for support as they made their way down the street.

The next pub was noisy, and attracted a predominantly younger crowd, mainly groups of single men and women, and mum did feel a little out of place. As she stumbled around, obviously very drunk, she found herself next to four young men, who mum reckoned couldn't have been any older than about 20

"Bloody hell," one of them said, "Look at the state of that." It was obvious that these men were enjoying the kind of irrepressible confidence that results from a large intake of alcohol.

The one who had spoken then looked at the youngest of the group and teased him by saying:

"Here, Craig, your mum's come along to keep an eye on you," at which they all sniggered. But another one said: "I wish I had a mum like that, just look at those tits," as indeed they all were. But mum ignored their cheek, she was so flattered to be thought worthy of attention from such young men.

"Are you really old enough to be drinking in a pub?" mum asked Craig, "You never know, I could be an undercover police officer."

"Well, you're not exactly under cover are you," he said, "You're showing most of what you've got," he added with a leer. "Very nice it looks too," said another, approvingly.

There was a lot more banter in this vein, mostly at mum's expense, though she tried to give as good as she got, and it got progressively ruder. They didn't volunteer a drink, but mum wasn't that bothered, as she was by now struggling to remain upright, and her kidneys were working overtime processing all the drink she had already consumed. Mum was so obviously unsteady on her feet that one of the lads who was standing behind her placed his hands on the bare flesh of her midriff to help support her, and mum leaned her weight back gratefully against him, and he slid his hands round to encompass the swell of her exposed belly.

Not surprisingly, the lads couldn't take their eyes off mum's boobs, so invitingly revealed in the scant material of her red top, and mum admitted that she was actually starting to feel quite aroused by the fact that such young men appeared to find her sexually desirable. She was a little disconcerted to realise that her already prominent nipples were stiffening in response. Craig was staring at them in awe and ventured to say: "Your have the most amazing nipples, are they real?"

"Of course they are," mum replied, affronted.

"I think you should prove it," Craig said boldly, "Why don't you show us."

"I don't think you're old enough to be seeing that sort of thing," mum scoffed.

"Oh, go on," said another, "It's his Birthday."

"It is?" Craig said in confusion.

"It certainly is," said the other, giving Craig a conspiratorial look, "He's eighteen, and I think you should give him a birthday treat, he's never seen a real woman's tits in the flesh." Craig started to protest that of course he had, but they quickly told him to shut up.

Mum told me she knew that she shouldn't really be leading them on, but all the attention they were giving her was addictive, and at that moment in her drunken state she was prepared to do almost anything to prolong the elation of being lusted after by a group of men more than young enough to be her sons.

"Go on then," mum said to Craig, raising her arms above her head to make it easier for him to remove her top. Craig actually wavered for a moment, giving mum a questioning look, and then his mates all cheered as he carefully eased her top up and over her head. Mum stood there unashamedly naked from the waist up.

You can imagine the effect this had on these testosterone and alcohol fuelled young men. They couldn't believe their luck, all making ribald exclamations of approval and desire. Mum even bobbed up and down a bit so that her boobs bounced and wobbled so invitingly they could hardly keep their hands off them.

"You can have a feel of them if you want, Birthday Boy," mum said to Craig, and this time he didn't hesitate. He weighed them in his hands, and as he gently tweaked her nipples, already sensitive with arousal, mum involuntarily gasped with undisguised pleasure.

The lads were naturally transfixed by the sight of mum's full shapely boobs, but one had allowed his gaze to wander down over her tummy to her crotch. "You're not wearing any knickers are you?" he whispered to her, and mum giggled by way of confirmation.

"That's a fine cameltoe you have there," he said admiringly. Mum gave him a puzzled look. (Mum was a bit naïve about some things, and told me she wasn't even sure what a cameltoe was. She certainly hadn't realised how pronounced it was in the stretchy material of her leggings.)

"Here," he said, standing at her side and cupping the palm of his hand round her mound, gently tracing his finger where the thin material had been drawn into the slit of her pussy. Mum's whole body jolted as though a bolt of electricity had passed through her, and for a moment the lad feared he had pushed his luck too far.

But mum didn't pull away, and he was emboldened to probe a little deeper into her gash. Mum started to push against the finger that was irresistibly arousing her, and of course this just encouraged him to continue massaging her sex. All this attention was liberating months of unfulfilled libido in mum and she was embarrassed to feel her juices flowing. The spreading damp patch in her leggings lubricated the finger that was so expertly stimulating her, making her clit even more responsive.

Mum was suddenly startled to realise that she was very close to cumming, and as the finger continued to work its magic mum could feel her chest and face blushing as her breathing became faster. Although her body's need for release was becoming ever more insistent, part of her felt uncomfortable about submitting to it in such a public setting. But the sensations coursing through her body were rapidly becoming unstoppable, and with an almighty shudder mum cried out as the convulsions of her orgasm overwhelmed her. Her legs buckled, and the lad standing behind her found himself supporting mum by her breasts.

The lads watched in mute astonishment as mum's ecstasy gradually spent itself. Although the pub was noisy, and the lads were pressed close around her, it must have been pretty obvious to those nearby what had happened, but I'm sure mum would have been blissfully unaware of the stir she must have caused.

As the aftershocks of her climax waned, mum re-opened her eyes to see the lads still staring at her with a mixture of awe and disbelief. Then they all started talking at once, delightedly telling mum how amazing that had been and so on, but mum wasn't really listening. As the reality of the exhibition she had just made of herself dawned on her, she suddenly wanted to be out of there. She grabbed her top and put it back on, almost falling as she turned to go, and staggered off to the Ladies to relieve herself.

When she re-emerged she couldn't face returning to the lads, and went to rejoin the supermarket girls. It was obvious that mum wasn't the only one who'd had too much to drink, one of them looking very much the worse for wear and unable to stand without assistance. Mum had no idea if any of them had witnessed what had been going on with the lads, but she didn't like to ask, and no-one mentioned it.

One of the girls then told mum that some of them were going on to a nightclub, but that 3 of them were going home by taxi, and did she want to come with them. Mum didn't have enough money left for night club prices, and suddenly felt very vulnerable at the prospect of being left in the pub on her own, and said with relief that she would, and that is how she came to spend the night on the sofa of one of them.

Now she was sober, mum obviously felt ashamed at what she had done.

"Are you disgusted with me?" she asked. "I don't think I've ever been quite so drunk before."

To be honest, I was rather shocked at her exhibitionist behaviour, but the last thing I wanted to do was to puncture her fragile new-found confidence, so I said:

"Of course not. I'm proud of you for summoning up the courage to wear that outfit. It certainly had the desired effect of getting you plenty of attention. And drinks," I reminded her. "And you had some much younger men lusting after you, so you don't have to take my word for it that you still have lots of appeal."

"It is nice and reassuring to think that men still find me desirable at my age," mum said, "Though I think most of them have only one thing in mind."

"Well, maybe an outfit like that encourages them to think that, but it depends what you want," I said to her. "If you really fancy someone for a one night stand, why not go for it, as long as you're careful. You only live once." I couldn't quite believe I was saying this to my mum. Then I added, like a parent talking to a teenager: "But if you're looking for a relationship, don't jump straight into bed with them. If they're really interested in you they'll be prepared to wait."

Thinking about it afterwards, I have to admit that I found mum's narrative quite arousing, but there was another emotion nagging away at me that I was reluctant to acknowledge. It was jealousy. Although I certainly didn't begrudge mum indulging her re-awakened sexual desires, there was now no denying that I wanted a part of that for myself.

Mum went back to her usual routine of evenings in front of the telly for the next couple of weeks. Speaking to her on the phone she seemed rather subdued. I formed the impression that she felt very embarrassed about the incident with the young men in the pub, and didn't feel inclined to go out again for the time being, especially on her own. To me it seemed a real shame that one instance of over-doing things a little had caused her growing confidence in herself to falter. So she was even more pleased than usual when I said I would come and visit her the following Sunday.

When mum opened the door to me I was delighted and astonished to find that she was wearing the blue lycra leggings and red crossover top I had bought for her 4 weeks earlier. Delighted, because the way in which it struggled to contain her burgeoning curves immediately triggered all the inappropriate feelings about her that I was trying unsuccessfully to deny. And astonished because this was the outfit she was wearing when she ended up making an exhibition of herself, and I didn't think she'd want to be reminded of that.