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This is fiction. If you find this kind of fantasy unacceptable please do us both a favor and move on. Otherwise if taboo is your thing, please enjoy.
Last year when my husband passed away, I had to return to the workforce. He left a modest insurance benefit and we had some savings, but not enough to sustain me and my son, Mark, who had moved home when he lost his job. My name is Sandra and I am 55 years old. I never went to college, but I am nevertheless smarter than your average bear and one special talent I had was twisting men around my little finger. Don’t misconstrue that to mean I am a bitch because I am quite the opposite. I just learned young that the way to a man’s heart was through his penis. A man who gets his cock sucked regularly, can fuck when he wants to, and feel free to explore a few of his darker desires is more times than not a happy, attentive, and loyal partner.
My husband, Jon, and I had lived a good life together. We rarely fought, much less quibbled, and I attribute our success in marriage to ensuring he had his morning blow job at least 5 days a week. To keep him sated, I even watched countless blow job, hand job, edging, deep throat and other orally focused videos on the porn sites. I learned more than sucking techniques. I learned that men love women who love their cum. Love it in their mouths, on their tits and pussies, in their asses, their faces, and drooling down from the corners of their mouths.
Basically, I learned how to worship my husband’s cock and then give him the pleasure of me wearing it or drinking it or slurping it up from his belly. We also fucked a lot, though mornings were reserved for cock worship. Jon loved the feeling of his cum pulsing into my pussy and sometimes he sucked me afterward, which was a huge turn-on for both of us. But what he loved most of all, other than me sucking his cock, was fucking my ass. In fact, I cannot recall a fucking session that did not include his cock alternating between my two holes.
I am telling you this because I want you to know that a married couple can have an awesome, kinky, mutually satisfying sex life. monogamously. But I am no longer married and don’t foresee becoming married, given my age, but my sexual urges are still present; in fact, they have grown since Jon died because I wasn’t having any sex other than masturbatory release. As well, during my marriage I had put away the desire to be with other men, for the sake of our marriage.
I did try Adult Friendfinder for a while and met a several men, but all but one was lay-a-abouts looking for a woman to support them. The one exception was a young man, the age of my son, who was nervously seeking an experience with an older woman. He was unsure of himself, but nevertheless mustered up the courage to put up an ad and meet older women. I sucked him off in his car after we had drinks the first time, and the second time I let him fuck me, again in his car. He lived with roommates and couldn’t afford a motel and I wasn’t going to fund his fun with me, but two times in a car were enough for me. I prefer the comfort of a bed and the freedom to move around. He understood. I told him maybe down the road we could get together if he got his own place or if Mark moved out; so, we stayed in touch through emails and text.
When he heard I was looking for a job, he encouraged me to apply at an office supply company that his father owned. He told me they needed a sales and customer service agent out in the field and suggested I had the perfect personality to succeed at that kind of work. The short story is that after two interviews, one with the father, I was offered the job and I said yes. But more about the job later.
Jon had died from a heart attack. It was unexpected. I was sucking him daily and we fucked pretty much every day and then wham, he died, and suddenly I had no husband and no sex life. My reaction to this went beyond masturbating more often, which I did. I compensated for the lack of sex life but dressing sexier, more provocatively, when I went out shopping or to the bar, but also in my own home. I loved the attention I got while perusing the cucumbers or while tippling on some Chablis at the Keg’s bar down the street. To be honest, though, I had not even thought about what effect dressing this way would have on my son.
Mark grew up in a normal household and in all the years he lived with us after he turned 18, never once was there any hint from him or me about anything sexual. There was nothing taboo about our relationship; I need to make that clear. I know a lot of people have incest fantasies and I have no doubt there are mothers who intentionally seduce their sons and daughters and vice versa, but I was not one of those. Incest was repulsive to me. It was wrong and immoral. It was the last thing I would ever do.
I was naive to think that wearing a teddy down stairs in the morning would not change how Mark looked at me. I should have been more mindful. I may be 55 but if I may be honest, I have one hell ankara escort of a body. My tits are big, my waist is small, and my hips and ass are respectively curvy and firm and round. I have long legs, pretty feet, and I was pretty, with big dark eyes, classic lips, and a smooth complexion. When I wore a teddy, my tits were half visible as were the bottom curves of my ass. I did wear a thong, but I think that just added to the allure for my son.
For a month or so, he never said anything. He never gawked at me either, though I am sure he enjoyed a lot of natural looks at my body. I did notice he hung out with me more, but I figured he was just being kind to his widowed mother. Once I got the job, he would see me leave each morning dressed like a saleswoman who knows that showing skin and being made up perfectly added to the bottom line.
On the morning of my final interview with the owner, I was nervous and tried on numerous outfits and modelled them for Mark. He asked me what dressing for success looked like for me, and I said, “I want him to know I will do just about anything to land a sale.”
At the time I was wearing a business suit that was rather conservative. Mark looked at me up and down, ran his hand through his hair a few times, his signal for being tentative. “Go on,” I said. “Be honest.”
“Well, mother,” he said softly. “Do you want to…” He paused and then continued. “Do you want him to be aware of all of your assets?”
I still hadn’t clued in. “Assets?”
“Gee, mom, you are making this hard.”
“Just say it, Mark. Please.”
“Okay. Do you want him to get a clear picture of what you have to offer physically, you know, as a woman?”
I was catching on now and I blushed. “Do you mean do I want to dress provocatively?”
Mark nodded. “If you do, that business suit is not an option.”
I walked back into my bedroom and searched my closet. Several minutes later I returned wearing a tight black knit dress that rested at mid-thigh and was rather low cut, revealing not only my ample cleavage but a portion of my white bra.”
Mark smiled. “Do you have a black bra?”
“Well your white bra looks kind of, err, sloppy, mom.”
“Oh.” Time was passing and I felt the pressure to make a decision and head over to the interview. I turned around, lifted my dress and unfastened and removed my bra. I was so nervous, I didn’t really think about the view I was affording my son of my big, firm ass that was covered only by the thin cloth of my thong. I lowered my dress and turned around. I looked down to see my hard nipples pressing out through the thin fabric. “Oh my.” I said.
Mark’s ingenuity surprised me. “Mom, I know you have a black sweater. Wear it. It will cover your nipples but give you the option of removing it if it feels right to do so.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My son was telling me how I could go to the interview braless in a short dress and then go further, if I wanted, by removing my sweater so that the owner could see my hard nipples. I was about to say something about not wanting to give the wrong idea when Mark said, “You better get going or you will be late.”
I looked at my phone. “Shit,” I yelped. I grabbed the sweater from my closet and rushed out of the house. As I said before, I did get that job, so the interview went well, very well – all because of my son and his courage to let me know I had a body that I should show off. I will share more details about the interview later.
This was the first time my son had admitted his mother was hot. I didn’t automatically think anything more about that. It just felt good that he saw me that way and could be honest enough to help me dress for success. That night, I thanked him by making his favorite dinner, prime rib and mashed potatoes, which I prepared still wearing the dress he approved of.
He watched me cook and helped with the peeling of the potatoes. I thanked him several times for his help, though he waved my gratitude off like it was nothing. I told him that, to be honest, it had never dawned on me that he saw me as a woman. “You know,” I added, “A woman with assets.” I smiled. I was facing him when I said that, and I must admit I felt a tinge of something sensual between my legs when I noticed he was staring at my breasts.
I am sure he noticed my cheeks go red, but all he said was. “Mom you are definitely a MILF.” He went immediately red after saying that. “I didn’t mean MILF in term of how I feel.”
I laughed. “It’s okay, Mark. I think you meant to say, for an old broad I am still attractive to men.”
“Yeh,” he mumbled.
“I know I have been dressing differently around the house. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I was surprised to be honest the first time you wore that teddy, but this is your house and you should dress the way you like as far as I am concerned.”
“Thank you, Mark. But if you don’t like it or if it makes you uncomfortable, I don’t have to…”
Mark interrupted me. escort ankara “No, mom, I like it. I mean if you want to dress sexy, I don’t mind at all.” He smiled when he said that, his eyes still on my breasts.
“Okay, then,” I said. “While the prime rib is in the oven, I am going to go change into something more comfortable.” I would have done that anyway, but now, once in my bedroom, the thought of what Mark might like entered my mind. His words triggered my history of doing things to please a man and while I had no intention of pleasing him like I did Jon or any other man for that matter, I figured dressing in a pleasing way for my son was no biggie and certainly not a betrayal of a traditional mother-son relationship – or so I told myself.
Dinner would be late – maybe 7:30 which meant by the time we were done, and I had cleaned up, my bedtime would not be far off. So, I picked a pale pink bra and panty set from my top drawer and then put on a long semi-transparent pink robe I used to wear for Jon in the bedroom. I looked in the mirror and I couldn’t keep down a small smile. I looked good. I was dressed sexy, but I was covered. Nevertheless, I wanted Mark to approve, wanted him to enjoy seeing his mother as a sexual creature.
What I did next was what made my attire provocative. I slipped on a pair of black nylon stay-ups and a pair of black high heels. I was acting a bit risqué but when I walked into the kitchen and saw the look on Mark’s face, I knew I had made the right choice.
The oven timer dinged, and Mark jumped up. “Let me,” he said, his eyes clearly taking me in. While he cut the roast and drained the Brussel sprouts, I sat at the end of the table, facing in his direction, my legs crossed, which caused the robe to open to reveal my legs and thighs. It was so open it showed the flesh above the nylons.
He watched me while he cut the roast. “Too bad you can’t wear that to work, mom.”
I laughed. “Yeh that would be too much, but here at home I think it’s okay, don’t you?”
That’s when he knicked himself with the carving knife. “Shit,” he winced.
My motherly instincts took over and while he rinsed his finger off in the sink, I scurried to the bathroom to get anti-septic and a band-aid. I was in such a hurry I didn’t notice that my robe and become untied. I wiped his finger, applied the anti-septic and then the band-aid. I leaned in and kissed his cheek. “I am sorry if I distracted you.”
You might think me daft but even now I wasn’t thinking about anything untoward about my son. Sure, I had likely broken some kind of unspoken rule dressing the way I did, but to me it was all about being comfortable in my own skin in front of my appreciative, supportive son.
But in an instant, that changed.
Mark hugged me and whispered “thanks” in my ear, with his hands on each of my ass cheeks. He pulled me closer. “I appreciate your care, mother.” We were crotch to crotch, and I could feel his appreciation and while I lingered there a bit too long, I did pull away.
“Mark,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “That’s not something we should be doing?”
“Hugging LIKE that, Mark. Your hands…and pulling me in…I mean, really.”
“I am sorry, mom. I wasn’t thinking.”
I wanted to say that his penis was doing the thinking for him, but I didn’t. I was standing there in shock, but I also knew my pussy was wet. My son’s hard cock pressed up against me, with his hands on my ass, had aroused me, and at the moment I didn’t know what to make of that.
We ate together like nothing happened, and he helped me clean up. We talked about normal stuff – his job hunting and a date he was going on this weekend. I talked about my new job and how I landed a nice contract on my first day out. It was our usual mom and son conversation, except that I was wearing what I was wearing and not paying much attention to how the robe had opened again.
We decided to watch a show or two before hitting the sack. We sat side by side on the sofa watching reruns of Seinfeld, laughing at the antics of George and Jerry. At one point we were laughing so hard, Mark placed his hand on my thigh one of my breasts slipped out of my bra.
We looked at each other, both of us not sure what was happening or what to do about it.
I fumbled to get my breast re-covered and he took his hand away and that was that. I was flustered and I am sure he knew it. “I am tired, Mark. I should go to bed.’
“Me, too,” he nodded. “I think I will shower first.”
“Okay,” I chimed. “I prefer to…”
“Shower in the morning, I know, mom.”
That night was a tough one. I eventually fell asleep, but I figure it took a good hour because all I think about was touching myself, but I didn’t. I just laid there, aware that my pussy was wet and pulsing and wondering if Mark was having the same feelings. God, I thought, what have I done?
Thankfully, Mark slept in and I was out the door before having to face him. Feeling ankara escort bayan like I had lost control over my senses, I dressed conservatively for work, a black skirt, button down white blouse and black jacket. I did wear nylons and garters, but I always did that, had for years. I had several calls to make today and sat my desk planning out my strategy with each customer. But I must admit I was having a hard time concentrating on work. My thoughts kept returning to my evening with Mark.
He had clearly seen and enjoyed looking at my bare breast and there was that hugging incident and his hard cock pressed up against my wet pussy. It was the oddest feeling. I was simultaneously ashamed and aroused, with the latter seeming to be more prominent, as I could feel dampness in my panties.
I looked up and saw my boss, George, standing in the doorway.
“How long have you been there?”
“A few moments. You looked like you were deep in thought.”
“Yes, I was. Sorry, what can I do for you?”
“I know you have calls to make but we screwed up big time on a shipment to one of our biggest clients and I need you to get over there and smooth things over. I told their CEO you would be there within an hour.”
George filled me in on what happened. We had forgotten items, shipped incorrect items and even our counts were wrong on some of the supplies. “He’s really pissed.”
“I’ll get over there pronto.” I stood to gather my stuff, but George didn’t budge. “Is there something else?”
George nodded. “I…I need to warn you their CEO is a young guy who is a bit of letch.”
“I see,” I said, thanks for the warning.”
George still stood there, blocking my way through the doorway.
“What is it, George?”
“Please don’t think poorly of me but if you are so inclined, you could leverage his love of women when you talk to him.”
“How do you suggest I do that?”
George blushed. “Well, he would likely be mollified if your blouse was a bit over unbuttoned.”
I chuckled and undid two buttons. “Like this.”
“Three would be better.”
I unbuttoned the third button, which unveiled a good amount of cleavage and the front clasp of my bra. “Better?”
“Y…yes,” George stammered. “And…” He paused, cleared his throat and added, “He is a leg man and don’t be surprised if he slaps you on the ass.”
Now I was curious. George didn’t really know I looked for ways to please men. “I understand.”
“Good,” George whispered.
“One more thing. Will he want more than a visual from me?”
“I can’t say he wouldn’t like that, but you don’t…”
“Okay thanks, George. I should get going now.”
Before I took the elevator to the parkade, I went to the bathroom. My blouse was perfect now, I figured, but I remembered George mentioning the CEO was a leg man and I wanted to be prepared for that. I adjusted myself, put on some lip stick and fussed with my hair and walked out of the bathroom with my panties in my purse.
The CEO was good looking man, slender and tall, with chiseled features. I shook his hand and smiled. “I am Sandra Mattson.”
“Pleased to meet you. I am Bob Martin.” He held my hand a bit longer that most do. He pointed to a chair by the side of his desk. “Please, sit.”
It was a fine leather, armless side chair. I sat down and crossed my legs and made no attempt to tug it down from the tops of my nylons. “I understand we really screwed up and want to say how…”
He interrupted me. “Yeh but I have cooled down. You guys are a long-time reliable supplier, but no one is perfect, and I was just shocked how badly all of this was done.”
We spent a few minutes talking about the shipment and I took notes about what we needed to do to rectify things as soon as possible. I also told him we would knock something off the invoice.
“Thank you.” He was smiling now, and I noticed his eyes were angled downward. “You’re new with the company.”
I nodded. “Yes, on staff for a week now.”
“The guy you replaced was competent enough, but I like your style.”
I crossed my legs the other way around and let my dress climb higher. “Thank you. I aim to please my customers.”
I knew he couldn’t see my pussy, but the prospect was clearly on his mind. “I am looking forward to seeing more of you,” he whispered. His eyes met mine and I knew what he wanted. I wanted to give it to him, but I didn’t want him to know that. So, I dropped my pen to one side by “accident” and when I leaned over to pick it up, my legs splayed apart and in the time it took me to retrieve the pen and sit back up, Bob got a clear view of my pussy, slightly parted no doubt, and for all I knew, glistening.
He made no bones about staring between my legs and I think he was going to say something suggestive when his secretary appeared in the doorway. “Mr. Martin, the management team is waiting for you in the board room.”
I stood up and extended my hand, “Good to meet you Mr. Martin.”
“Call me Bob.” He placed my hand between both of his and said, “Tell George I am okay now and that I want you to be my account representative. No one else.”
“Of course, Mr. Martin, I mean Bob. I will be happy to service you and your company.”
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