06-11-2019, 03:42 PM
This is Evan's story started in Chapter 16 and finished here.
All characters are 18 years or older.
Part 1 from Chapter 16. Mom pays for flirting with Ben
My name is Evan. I want to tell you about my Mom, Edith, and what happened in my last year of high school. I was hanging with some friends and we stopped at a local mall to pick up some beers on the way over to my friend Jim's place. I waited in the car while Jim and Gary went in to score some booze. Gazing around while listening to some tunes, I spotted my mother walking towards the car. She was walking slowly with an uncharacteristic exaggeration to her walk, kind of like an old time movie star making sure her fans could enjoy the roll of her hips as she strolled down the red carpet at a premiere with the lights glinting off legs accented by high-heels.
I slunk down in the front seat as Mom approached, hoping not to be seen in case she clued in to why I was there, which she would certainly do if she stayed long enough for Jim and Gary to arrive carrying armloads of beer. I swore out loud when she stopped and opened the trunk of her car directly in front of me, which I hadn't recognized until now. She turned to look back the way she had come, smiling and speaking to the store employee that had been following her with several bags of groceries clutched in his arms.
As the man set the bags in the trunk, Mom touched him on his shoulder and then his forearm, smiling and chatting to him after he closed the trunk and then slowly making her way around the side to the driver's door. Since there was no car parked next to Mom's car, the man opened the door wide for her to get in. With a final touch on his arm, Mom sat in the car, turned her face forward, and swung her legs inside. Even at a distance I could see that the man took advantage of her averted gaze to look down at her legs, probably with a good view up her skirt. It seemed to take a long time for Mom to get her legs inside the car and even then the man appeared reluctant to close the door. He leaned down to talk through Mom's open window for a few a minute or so before she started the car, backed out, and drove away.
I sat up and, drenched in a weird feeling, alternated between looking at the man's retreating back and Mom's receding car. Mom had flirted outrageously with this man and I had the sense this wasn't the first time. I couldn't blame the guy for looking at Mom's legs. Why wouldn't he? But Mom had gone out of her way to let him look. Way out of her way. I was shocked.
I told Jim and Gary I suddenly wasn't feeling well and went home instead of partying at Jim's place. Mom was in the kitchen putting stuff away and starting to get dinner ready. She was still wearing the same dress but the heels were gone. I sat in a kitchen chair and watched her, for the first time in my life unable to keep my eyes off her stockinged legs or, despite her chatter, listening to the whisper of her nylons as she moved around the kitchen.
Suddenly, I blurted out, "That guy really liked your legs."
Mom swung around to face me, looking flabbergasted. "What?" she cried.
"Your legs," I mumbled. "That guy was staring at your legs all the way to your car."
"What are you talking about?"
"I saw you, at the grocery store. The guy that carried your bags. He was staring at your legs."
"Where were you? What were you doing there?" Mom looked taken aback and I suspected she was tossing questions out to buy herself time to think.
"I was sitting in Jim's car, right behind yours."
Mom's face went kind of red and her voice rose an octave.
"Doing what? Spying on me?"
"No. Jim and Gary wanted to party and I was waiting for them to get some booze." I don't know why I admitted that. Maybe I wanted to show we were both guilty of something.
"Evan, you shouldn't be ..."
"I'm here," I cut her off. "I didn't go."
"Right," Mom said, awkwardly looking away.
"Anyway, he really liked your legs," I repeated, getting back on track, looking down at Mom's legs.
"Oh, Ben. He's harmless," Mom tried to casually dismiss the whole thing. "He carries my bags out for me all the time. It's nice of him. He gets out of the store and it helps me." Mom paused, then continued, "So, now you know," her voice trailed off, "it doesn't do any harm."
"I see," I answered quietly.
Our conversation ended there. Mom returned to her work and I continued watching her, my eyes eventually straying up from her legs to admire her rear end and how narrow her waist was. It was weird to note for the first time in my life how much her hips flared out from her waist. I could almost circle my hands right around her.
Mom worked away as if I wasn't there but somehow I knew she was cognizant of the close attention I was paying to her. It was strange. There was something different between us now though it couldn't be seen. She seemed to pause longer between movements and she kept stretching one foot behind to steady herself by pushing her toes against the floor and tensing her calf muscles, seemingly more than necessary. Once everything was set on the stove, Mom walked over to stand beside me.
"Can you watch the stove while I get out of this dress?" she smiled, laying her soft fingers down on my forearm.
"Sure," I agreed, my eyes following her as she walked slowly away in the same exaggerated stroll I had witnessed this afternoon. Although it hadn't earlier, my cock now reacted as I watched the sway of my mother's hips. She returned just a few minutes later wearing a nondescript housedress and slippers, stockings gone, just as I heard the crunch of Dad's tires in the driveway. Mom stopped and put her hand on my arm again.
"I don't think you should mention anything about the parking lot, Evan. I don't think Dad would like the idea of you getting booze."
"Mums the word," I agreed.
Mom looked relieved. Despite what she'd said, we both knew that she was really asking me not to say anything about her and Ben. Though I hadn't said anything, she knew I must have seen her let Ben look up her skirt as she got into the car.
The rest of the evening was uneventful. Mom went into the kitchen when I got up to go to bed and asked me to bring any dishes in the living room into the kitchen, which I did. After putting them on the counter beside the sink, I turned to walk away but Mom caught my arm.
"Give your mother a kiss goodnight," she said.
I gave her a peck on her cheek and she followed that by planting a longer and softer kiss on the side of my cheek, stretching up on her toes to reach, an action that caused her breasts to brush lightly across my chest.
"Sweet dreams," she whispered.
Mom hadn't kissed me goodnight for years.
The next morning, just before I ran out the door to meet Jim who was picking me up on the way to school, as usual, Mom asked me if I could meet her at the mall after school to help her home with some groceries. This was also new. Mom had never asked me to do that before.
Mom was waiting for me in front of the grocery store after school. She was wearing the same dress she's worn the day before but without pantyhose, just bare legs, and sandals instead of heels. I followed her around with a cart as she picked things up, making sure to stay behind so I could look at her legs. I never offered to help when she had to reach up to get things though most of the things she needed were on the top or bottom shelves. Mom never let on that I was watching but I'm sure she knew.
Ben seemed disappointed to see me. I trailed behind Mom on the way to the car, which she had parked at the far end of the parking lot. She strolled along in the same fashion she had used to tease Ben which surprised me. It was one thing to let me look but another to so openly encourage it. After I dumped the bags in the trunk, Mom handed me the keys and asked me to open the door for her as she walked around to the passenger side. I was really stunned when she treated me to a long look up her skirt, looking away just as she had with Ben so I was free to peek. She wasn't wearing pantyhose. Somehow I knew that Ben hadn't been gifted with such a direct look at her panties. Her son's reward for carrying the groceries was special.
At home, Mom asked me to stay in the kitchen to keep her company, giving me an excuse to watch her. She had kicked off her sandals as she entered the house and was padding around the kitchen in bare feet. She asked me several times to help her put things away in the upper cupboards but she first stretched up on her toes and waited for me to grab whatever she was holding to take it the last few inches, allowing me to brush my body against the back of hers. It was a silly way to do this but we acted like it was completely rational.
Finally, like the day before, everything was put away and dinner was on the stove. Mom again walked over to where I was sitting but this time she raised her foot up and put the ball of her foot on the edge of my chair between my legs.
"Look at all the scratches I got on my ankles from gardening this afternoon," she said, twisting her leg to show me. "I don't know why Ben likes to look at these old legs."
"Hmmmm, yes," I said, placing my hand so I could circle her ankle loosely with my fingers. "Pretty scuffed up," I agreed, stroking my hand up her leg and then down, lightly scbanging the circle of my fingers over her skin.
"Brat," Mom laughed. "They're not that bad."
All characters are 18 years or older.
Part 1 from Chapter 16. Mom pays for flirting with Ben
My name is Evan. I want to tell you about my Mom, Edith, and what happened in my last year of high school. I was hanging with some friends and we stopped at a local mall to pick up some beers on the way over to my friend Jim's place. I waited in the car while Jim and Gary went in to score some booze. Gazing around while listening to some tunes, I spotted my mother walking towards the car. She was walking slowly with an uncharacteristic exaggeration to her walk, kind of like an old time movie star making sure her fans could enjoy the roll of her hips as she strolled down the red carpet at a premiere with the lights glinting off legs accented by high-heels.
I slunk down in the front seat as Mom approached, hoping not to be seen in case she clued in to why I was there, which she would certainly do if she stayed long enough for Jim and Gary to arrive carrying armloads of beer. I swore out loud when she stopped and opened the trunk of her car directly in front of me, which I hadn't recognized until now. She turned to look back the way she had come, smiling and speaking to the store employee that had been following her with several bags of groceries clutched in his arms.
As the man set the bags in the trunk, Mom touched him on his shoulder and then his forearm, smiling and chatting to him after he closed the trunk and then slowly making her way around the side to the driver's door. Since there was no car parked next to Mom's car, the man opened the door wide for her to get in. With a final touch on his arm, Mom sat in the car, turned her face forward, and swung her legs inside. Even at a distance I could see that the man took advantage of her averted gaze to look down at her legs, probably with a good view up her skirt. It seemed to take a long time for Mom to get her legs inside the car and even then the man appeared reluctant to close the door. He leaned down to talk through Mom's open window for a few a minute or so before she started the car, backed out, and drove away.
I sat up and, drenched in a weird feeling, alternated between looking at the man's retreating back and Mom's receding car. Mom had flirted outrageously with this man and I had the sense this wasn't the first time. I couldn't blame the guy for looking at Mom's legs. Why wouldn't he? But Mom had gone out of her way to let him look. Way out of her way. I was shocked.
I told Jim and Gary I suddenly wasn't feeling well and went home instead of partying at Jim's place. Mom was in the kitchen putting stuff away and starting to get dinner ready. She was still wearing the same dress but the heels were gone. I sat in a kitchen chair and watched her, for the first time in my life unable to keep my eyes off her stockinged legs or, despite her chatter, listening to the whisper of her nylons as she moved around the kitchen.
Suddenly, I blurted out, "That guy really liked your legs."
Mom swung around to face me, looking flabbergasted. "What?" she cried.
"Your legs," I mumbled. "That guy was staring at your legs all the way to your car."
"What are you talking about?"
"I saw you, at the grocery store. The guy that carried your bags. He was staring at your legs."
"Where were you? What were you doing there?" Mom looked taken aback and I suspected she was tossing questions out to buy herself time to think.
"I was sitting in Jim's car, right behind yours."
Mom's face went kind of red and her voice rose an octave.
"Doing what? Spying on me?"
"No. Jim and Gary wanted to party and I was waiting for them to get some booze." I don't know why I admitted that. Maybe I wanted to show we were both guilty of something.
"Evan, you shouldn't be ..."
"I'm here," I cut her off. "I didn't go."
"Right," Mom said, awkwardly looking away.
"Anyway, he really liked your legs," I repeated, getting back on track, looking down at Mom's legs.
"Oh, Ben. He's harmless," Mom tried to casually dismiss the whole thing. "He carries my bags out for me all the time. It's nice of him. He gets out of the store and it helps me." Mom paused, then continued, "So, now you know," her voice trailed off, "it doesn't do any harm."
"I see," I answered quietly.
Our conversation ended there. Mom returned to her work and I continued watching her, my eyes eventually straying up from her legs to admire her rear end and how narrow her waist was. It was weird to note for the first time in my life how much her hips flared out from her waist. I could almost circle my hands right around her.
Mom worked away as if I wasn't there but somehow I knew she was cognizant of the close attention I was paying to her. It was strange. There was something different between us now though it couldn't be seen. She seemed to pause longer between movements and she kept stretching one foot behind to steady herself by pushing her toes against the floor and tensing her calf muscles, seemingly more than necessary. Once everything was set on the stove, Mom walked over to stand beside me.
"Can you watch the stove while I get out of this dress?" she smiled, laying her soft fingers down on my forearm.
"Sure," I agreed, my eyes following her as she walked slowly away in the same exaggerated stroll I had witnessed this afternoon. Although it hadn't earlier, my cock now reacted as I watched the sway of my mother's hips. She returned just a few minutes later wearing a nondescript housedress and slippers, stockings gone, just as I heard the crunch of Dad's tires in the driveway. Mom stopped and put her hand on my arm again.
"I don't think you should mention anything about the parking lot, Evan. I don't think Dad would like the idea of you getting booze."
"Mums the word," I agreed.
Mom looked relieved. Despite what she'd said, we both knew that she was really asking me not to say anything about her and Ben. Though I hadn't said anything, she knew I must have seen her let Ben look up her skirt as she got into the car.
The rest of the evening was uneventful. Mom went into the kitchen when I got up to go to bed and asked me to bring any dishes in the living room into the kitchen, which I did. After putting them on the counter beside the sink, I turned to walk away but Mom caught my arm.
"Give your mother a kiss goodnight," she said.
I gave her a peck on her cheek and she followed that by planting a longer and softer kiss on the side of my cheek, stretching up on her toes to reach, an action that caused her breasts to brush lightly across my chest.
"Sweet dreams," she whispered.
Mom hadn't kissed me goodnight for years.
The next morning, just before I ran out the door to meet Jim who was picking me up on the way to school, as usual, Mom asked me if I could meet her at the mall after school to help her home with some groceries. This was also new. Mom had never asked me to do that before.
Mom was waiting for me in front of the grocery store after school. She was wearing the same dress she's worn the day before but without pantyhose, just bare legs, and sandals instead of heels. I followed her around with a cart as she picked things up, making sure to stay behind so I could look at her legs. I never offered to help when she had to reach up to get things though most of the things she needed were on the top or bottom shelves. Mom never let on that I was watching but I'm sure she knew.
Ben seemed disappointed to see me. I trailed behind Mom on the way to the car, which she had parked at the far end of the parking lot. She strolled along in the same fashion she had used to tease Ben which surprised me. It was one thing to let me look but another to so openly encourage it. After I dumped the bags in the trunk, Mom handed me the keys and asked me to open the door for her as she walked around to the passenger side. I was really stunned when she treated me to a long look up her skirt, looking away just as she had with Ben so I was free to peek. She wasn't wearing pantyhose. Somehow I knew that Ben hadn't been gifted with such a direct look at her panties. Her son's reward for carrying the groceries was special.
At home, Mom asked me to stay in the kitchen to keep her company, giving me an excuse to watch her. She had kicked off her sandals as she entered the house and was padding around the kitchen in bare feet. She asked me several times to help her put things away in the upper cupboards but she first stretched up on her toes and waited for me to grab whatever she was holding to take it the last few inches, allowing me to brush my body against the back of hers. It was a silly way to do this but we acted like it was completely rational.
Finally, like the day before, everything was put away and dinner was on the stove. Mom again walked over to where I was sitting but this time she raised her foot up and put the ball of her foot on the edge of my chair between my legs.
"Look at all the scratches I got on my ankles from gardening this afternoon," she said, twisting her leg to show me. "I don't know why Ben likes to look at these old legs."
"Hmmmm, yes," I said, placing my hand so I could circle her ankle loosely with my fingers. "Pretty scuffed up," I agreed, stroking my hand up her leg and then down, lightly scbanging the circle of my fingers over her skin.
"Brat," Mom laughed. "They're not that bad."
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