The Theft of Our Lives -- Kellen

Bracing herself emotionally and closing her tense green eyes momentarily to gather her calm and strength, she stood at the doorway to the laundry room dressed, or more accurately, undressed for her most daring move yet. Frilly black lace French-cut bikini panties and an ivory silk chemise were the only things separating Emma from the bulging eyes of our soon-to-be shocked 18-year-old teen.

The panties were cut high on her broad hips, pulling the crotch neatly against her shaved pussy and dipping extremely low up front such to only cover her mons. The back panel was almost non-existent, climbing up her ass crack exposing most of her white butt cheeks.

It wasn't technically a thong, but it may as well have been.

The sheer top was just as scandalous -- a brief midriff chemise barely covering the full mounds of her prodigious breasts, with the cloth pushed outward by their tremendous size imprinting her taut nipples against the silk fabric leaving her rounded tummy exposed and a hint of under-boob peeking from beneath the brocaded hem.

Honestly, a professional lingerie model couldn't have done a better job for pure audacious sexiness, especially as Emma has the voluptuous body to pull it off, making it tastefully alluring without looking trampy.

Footsteps rambunctiously rambled down the hall, drawing closer with each step and heading for the kitchen located next to the laundry room.

Nervous energy raced through Emma's tremoring body and her breath grew rapid with tension at the show she had planned. Quickly, she composed herself, standing tall and squaring her shoulders bravely pushing her mammoth tits forward in setting her most remarkable assets on unmistakable display.

"Mom, I'm home," Kellen's voice rang out as he turned the corner into the kitchen looking for an afternoon snack.

"Oh, Kel, home already?" she called with practiced surprise, anxiously drawing his gaze as intended. "I wasn't expecting you until dinner time."

"Hey mom, uhhhhh," he replied, freezing with the words halfway out of his mouth, gawking openly at his nearly undressed mother standing at the entrance to the laundry room.

"Oh, ummm, I was just doing laundry," Emma stuttered, staying in place despite her internal upheaval, other than drawing her hand to her mouth pretending to be caught off-guard and staring directly at our stunned youngster.

Kellen was too shocked to speak and too paralyzed to move. His prudish mother was standing half-naked in just a skimpy pair of lacy panties and a barely-there top. Our sheltered son had never, and I do mean never, seen her dressed in anything remotely so revealing.

My conventional wife always took great care never to be caught in her underwear anywhere in the house. She changed clothes in our bedroom behind closed doors, and just as with her previously essential brassiere, wouldn't dream of even a quick jaunt to the linen closet wearing only a top and panties.

"I thought practice ran until five, and I wanted to get the laundry done before then," she said by way of explanation, desperately trying to be nonchalant while turning towards our dazzled son intentionally granting him the full picture.

"Uhhh, cancelled," Kellen replied haltingly, unable to remove his bugging eyes from his disrobed mother and not understanding why she did nothing to cover herself.

Kellen had never seen so much exposed flesh in his life, seeing his appealing mother's long toned legs rising intriguingly to her meaty hip bones, the padded pale flesh of her curved tummy centered by a cute bellybutton, and even a hint of the sloping bottoms of her half-escaping tits.

It was all there right before his gaping eyes, and he simply couldn't look away, exactly as she intended.

"Oh, I see," Emma answered, spreading her hands in a gesture of recognition purposefully designed to shimmy her gelatinous melons beneath the thin chemise, sheer enough for the faint impression of her dusky rose areolae to be visible.

Kellen marveled at the near nudity of his mother. He'd never imagined her this way, and never thought of her sexually, at least not until just recently with her unusual behavior. She was always just 'mom,' and the idea of her without clothes was completely foreign.

"Oh, look at me, half-naked. I'm sorry, I should put something on but there's nothing here. I wasn't expecting you until later so threw my clothes in the wash with the load," she apologized cleverly, for the first time acknowledging her minimal state of dress but excusing rather than doing anything about it.

As if to emphasize the point, but really just to give him a good look from another angle, Emma turned her back to him pointing at the load running in the washer while giving our dazed son an unobscured view of her ripe, alabaster cheeks, with the plentiful half-moons roundly displayed in all their glory resting above the long stems of her graceful legs.

"I hope you don't mind," his astonishing mother followed, turning on the coquettish charm and giving her capacious glutes a gentle wiggle while forming a 'come hither' smile on her face.

Kellen shook his head dumbly and only continued to stare straight at his taunting mother's delectable ass.

"Since you're here, help me out. Grab that stack of your shirts and take them to your room," she asked, adopting a motherly tone, and pointing at a neat pile of clothes further inside the laundry room on a folding table.

The change in her voice broke his trance, recognizing the 'do your chores' inflection sending him into his deeply ingrained 'responsible son' upbringing. It also meant he'd need to get closer to pass his authoritative mother in the doorway -- a moment certainly uncomfortable for our baffled young man, and for Emma too, even as the instigator.

"Ummm, yes ma'am," Kellen respectfully answered, tentatively walking towards her as she stood unmoving, with her incredible body steadfast and merely inches from his own, letting him sidle past her statuesque form.

At that proximity, there was no hiding the prominence of his stoic mother's involuntarily stiffening nipples poking through the lightweight chemise.

The doorway was narrow enough that even taking great care to avoid contact, Kellen's muscular chest couldn't avoid brushing against his shallowly breathing mother's outthrust chest, looking her awkwardly eye-to-eye in silent awareness of the illicit contact.

'Huh,' our agitated son exhaled, sensing the soft plushness of his mother's glorious breasts pressing against his shirt, with her extrusive nipples seemingly drilling into his chest as he passed.

'Whew,' Emma released a quiet exhale of her own at the intimate contact, exchanging a knowing gaze attesting to their mutual understanding of the licentious impropriety of the act as a shiver of erotic energy ran through her body.

"Thank you, Kel. You're such a good son," she promptly returned to 'mother mode' again, turning with eyes briefly closed in remorse for the impure exhibition but giving her ass an exaggerated swivel sashaying through the kitchen as she left to end the immoral interaction.

*****************

As she told it, the next 24 hours were relatively quiet. Kellen was gone most of the day for an away game and didn't arrive home until after dinner. This was the night she'd texted me they'd touched, feeling each other up. I had the worst image in my mind of Kellen and Emma going at it groping tits and ass and who knew what else.

What I learned upon my arrival home was that it wasn't nearly as naughty as I'd feared.

Braless in a loose t-shirt and fashionable shorts, Emma took every opportunity to press her body against his muscular form, aggressively pushing her pelvis into his crotch with a welcoming hug or letting her freely jostling breasts flatten against his back pretending to lean over his shoulder retrieving a plate from the table as he ate a late dinner.

'Accidentally,' she touched his crotch when pretending to reach for his lap to retrieve his napkin and squeezing his soft cock as she did, releasing him before he even knew what happened. A moment later, she 'jokingly' placed his palm on her bottom and held it there, asking him if she was getting fat in a ridiculous ruse.

Apparently, he didn't get to cop a feel of her unbound tits, although that inglorious event was just a matter of time. It was really pretty tame, all things considered, but even then, it was abnormal behavior for Emma, and she let slip the simple touching had generated a warmth in her pussy she couldn't explain, leaving her confused and discomfited.

On Saturday things picked up, as Emma's little sister Betsy showed up in the early afternoon to chat, once again sitting in the backyard sharing glasses of wine.

"Let's take a quick dip," Emma suggested to cool off after some time in the hot sun.

As they emerged from the pool after a short swim and splash, Betsy studied at her sister in the drenched bathing suit.

"Jeez, Emma, are you shaving down there?" my wife's straightforward sister commented incredulously, catching a glimpse of Emma's wet bottoms and the obvious cameltoe her labia created unobstructed by any pubic hair.

"Umm, yes," she sheepishly replied, quickly adding. "It was just a lark, you know, to see what it felt like."

"Well, I can tell you what it looks like," Betsy pointed out. "There's not much left to the imagination and that suit doesn't do much to hide your nipples either."

Emma's suit wasn't transparent, but it wasn't padded either, so when wet it adhered to her body like a snug glove outlining her every curve and impression, including the steely buds tightened by the cool water.

Unbeknownst to the oblivious sisters, Kellen was downstairs, spying through the backdoor as his tempting mother and spunky aunt dried off, keenly noticing the form-fitting bikinis and all they revealed. He couldn't help but feel a stirring in his loins at the sight.

Finished drying, Emma and Betsy entered the kitchen, still chatting when they saw Kellen standing there.

"Oh! Hi Kel, are you getting hungry?" his surprised mom asked good-naturedly.

"Yeah, uh, I mean, sure," Kellen sputtered, not looking up to speak his timid response, unable to pry his eyes from the delta between his mother's legs and the still-apparent cameltoe.

Betsy nudged Emma, who suddenly realized she was giving our son quite a view of her covered pussy and erect nipples. Even then, she consciously paused for a moment, conveniently granting Kellen more time to ogle before finally covering up with a towel.

"Ok, dear, let me go upstairs and change then I'll make you something," Emma offered, pretending she hadn't caught his lingering attention to her crotch. "Are you staying, Bets?"

"No, I'd better change and get home," Betsy begged off, kissing, and hugging my wife and son with care, inadvertently smushing her generous breasts into her fixated nephew's chest to his undeniable pleasure, before throwing her clothes on over her bikini and leaving.

"I'll be down soon, Kellen," Emma called back while heading upstairs, feeling the intoxicating benefit of the wine and deciding to search her wardrobe for something alluring to wear.

As much as she hated to admit it, the opportunity to make clear-cut inroads on Hank's demand was too convenient to pass up. Besides, she was running out of time and her past week of provocative behavior had only laid the groundwork for a more aggressively persuasive approach.

Deciding to dress down in more than just style, she found a loose, light cotton printed short skirt she thought was perfect for a warm spring evening. It was slit on the sides, so parted on her hip when she sat down, reaching only to mid-thigh on her long legs.

For a top, my judicious wife picked a semi-opaque, cotton button-down blouse in a chiffon yellow complimenting the print pattern in the blue skirt. Daringly, she left two additional buttons undone at the bodice to nearly mid-torso, and her flaccid nipples expressed themselves against the blouse but weren't obvious unless they became truly erect.

"Yeah, this'll get his attention," she addressed herself in the mirror, certain that when caught in the right light her prominent silhouette was visible and put to its best advantage.

While the skirt was designed to wear with something underneath, Emma indecently wore no underwear at all -- bra or panties. It made showing off some skin, or even access if things went that far, much easier. Adopting a freelance style, she wore no shoes either, preferring a comfortable barefoot approach.

Finally, she pulled her hair into her usual ponytail tied with a yellow ribbon and did a light touch up on her make-up -- nothing suggestive or slutty, just enough to highlight her features and particularly her full lips, giving the lush petals a seductive appeal just begging to be wrapped around a hard cock.

Emma looked good -- natural, casual, and certainly more 'carefree' than she'd ever dressed around the kids, even now as adults. Bracing herself for the evening ahead, she exhaled and collected her jumbled emotions. The wine helped and she planned to drink more.

Even with the fortification, however, Emma was nauseated and remorseful about what she had to do.

"How does one seduce their own son?" she plaintively asked, joking to ease her stress. "It's nowhere in the Mother's How-To Manual."

"I'll just play it by ear, but I dare not push too hard or I'll scare him off," Emma determined, with no grand plan.

Since she also had no specific goal for the evening, she resolved to just go with flow and let events take their own course, with a little nudge here and there as needed. Wisely, my smart wife recognized that advancing her obscene proposition too aggressively ultimately worked against her and be a disaster to fulfilling Hank's deviant order.

On the other hand, Emma mentally prepared herself to take things as far as possible, even all the way, if Kellen was willing and not totally freaked out by the idea of fucking his mom.

A chill ran up her spine at that prospect, but Emma calmed herself, putting it out of mind to deal with later, if the situation arose. At the end of the night, she'd re-evaluate her position and Kellen's reaction, then determine the next step in her outrageous seduction and their impure mother-son relationship going forward.

Kellen sat at the breakfast nook, still dressed for the warm day in loose shorts and a tank top, when his mother breezily returned to the kitchen with feigned nonchalance. He was barefoot too.

'Mom's dressing so different lately,' our perplexed son observed quizzically.

There was no question she was braless, however, which she never did until just the last few days, as the pronounced bulge of her chest carried slightly lower on her frame than usual.

"Grilled cheese?" Emma inquired, hoping not to work too much.

"Sure," he replied without thinking about the perennial favorite meal.

As Emma got out the fixings, she reached for another bottle of wine and poured a glass, needing the reinforcement of the relaxing alcohol.

Then, figuring 'why not?,' she turned to Kellen.

"Kerri's out for the night and your dad is out of town, so I guess you're the man of the house. Would you like a glass of wine?" his amenable mother informed him in making the startling offer.

It was another precedent, but Emma assumed it might make the whole evening easier if Kellen was a little tipsy too, but not too much. She knew getting him sloppy drunk wasn't helpful and the mother deep inside also didn't want him feeling sick in the morning. Just one or two glasses to loosen him up a little was sufficient for her plan to work.

"Um, yes, please," Kellen stammered, not understanding what was going on with his usually uptight mother, but not wanting to turn down the opportunity to drink either.

He'd never had wine before, but we liked it, 'so how bad can it be?' he reasoned, and it always put us in a better mood.

Over the next few minutes, Emma pranced about the kitchen preparing the sandwich, with Kellen spying her every move from the sway of her skirt, the tone of her long sturdy legs, and even the playful bob of her cutesy ponytail.

'She's pretty,' he realized, never noticing until now with her liberated behavior and revealing attire, although some of his friends made inappropriate comments he'd previously ignored, challenged, or dispelled.

From the other side of the room, Kellen saw the light pass through his animated mother's skirt, outlining in shadow her shapely thighs, and more indiscreetly, he also caught the slope of her big loose breasts poorly hidden beneath her blouse.

'They look bigger without a bra,' he observed shamefully, exhibiting a typically male response even he couldn't resist.

Emma was aware of our son's eyes on her pleasing form. She felt so evil and immodest. Even then, she made a bold point of accentuating her movements, certain to emphasize the shifts of her body, enticing him and inviting his attention to her plentiful curves.

The whole sordid ploy was wrong, and it felt wrong, so in response she drank more wine, feeling a gentle buzz overtaking her nerves, with the alcohol hitting our inexperienced son too by the time his mother served up his sandwich.

Winsomely, Emma leaned low, revealing a large amount of cleavage directly before his wandering eyes while placing the grilled cheese on the plate. She took her sweet time about it too, so Kellen got a generous eyeful of the deep fleshy valley, with the big jugs barely contained within the confines of the partially unbuttoned blouse.

In his increasingly inebriated state, our 18-year-old son gazed mesmerized by the sight of his mother's large boobs. It was the closest he'd ever been to seeing real-life naked breasts. He envisioned himself reaching down her top and touching them but didn't dare despite the alcohol and wanton nature of his mother's suggestive behavior.

When Emma set the pan to soak in the sink, she purposefully bent at the waist to open the cupboard below with unbent knees, raising her short skirt high on the backs of her well-proportioned thighs, and almost to the swell of her round ass cheeks but leaving the pale globes just out of view.

Kellen was entranced and careless to look away, with the effects of the alcohol emboldening his stare. His clever mother knew it too, intentionally catching him eyeing her body and embarrassingly forcing him to avert his eyes from her plump bottom only well after getting busted.

The two talked politely over dinner about school and the team, but Emma was sure to always have the opening of her blouse as wide as possible displaying the swelling curvature of her breasts. Frequently, she touched him casually on the shoulder or placed her hand on his bare knee.

Before long, she artfully guided the conversation to a subject she had never broached -- girls.

"I know I don't ever ask you Kellen but is there a girl at school you're interested in?" she started innocently, asking a tame question any mother might ask her teenage son.

"Me? Ummm, no one in particular, but sure, there are some cute girls around," he murmured, feeling relaxed from the wine, but still surprised by the question.

"You're able to drive, have you thought about dating?" Emma pressed with a hint of sincerity to the question, following with motherly reassurance. "You know, you can always talk to your mom and dad if you ever need advice."

Kellen's a good kid and knew where to turn if needed, but he awkwardly replied 'maybe,' remaining elusive and non-committal.

When he was finished, Emma picked up the plates, once more flashing a generous amount of her full, unrestrained bosom and sauntering to the sink, swaggering her hips suggestively.

"Those can wait until later," she decided, extending another surprising invitation. "Why don't I pour you one more glass of wine and we can sit in the family room and talk."