His Mother's Boots

I knew what I looked like before the evening even began, but it was only by the end of the night that I knew that inside, I was exactly the same as the way that I appeared. Intrigued?

It had been a sweltering hot Friday, and now, at early evening, it was warm and humid. I'd finished getting ready for my night out with the girls, and was admiring my look in the full length mirror in the hallway when the doorbell rang. About time, I thought; any later, and I'd have missed him - and I doubt he's remembered his door key. My son was back from university for the weekend, for a night out celebrating his mate's 23rd birthday the following night. I had told him that I'd be out by seven, and he was pushing it. The doorbell went again. Impatient sod!

"Coming! Give me a minute!"

I opened the door wide. "And what time to you call this, young man, hmm?"

"Sorry mum." He replied, cheekily.

"Forget that - come in here and give your mother a hug."

He stepped inside and dropped his holdall by the door. Damn, I'd forgotten how handsome he was. I know absence makes the heart grow fonder, and a parent shouldn't be proud of how good their kids look, but...even though I'm his mother, I have to admit that as he's grown older, as a woman, I've found him attractive. Was that so bad? I'd asked myself this, ever more frequently over the last year or two.

He threw his arms around me, and as he hugged me tightly, I stroked the back of his hair. I leaned back a little to have a good look at him, my hands resting on his firm chest, his hands still on my waist.

"Have to say it, you look fantastic mum. Where are you off to?"

"Just into town, darling - a few pubs, you know?"

My hands slid down his chest as he moved his from my waist, and I turned to walk down the hall towards the kitchen. "Do you want a drink before I go, love? I've got five minutes before the cab's here - go on, sit yourself down."

"Go on then mum, twist my arm."

He filled me in on his journey as I hastily poured a couple of whiskey and cokes, and returned to the living room. I perched on the edge of an armchair, crossing one leg over the other and lit a cigarette. It was then that I noticed 'that look'. The look that I've occasionally seen in his eyes, and many a time in other men's. Sometimes, you just know when someone's giving you the 'once over'.

I smiled at him. "What?" I asked, coyly.

"Nothing... just admiring. I like your dress."

"Thanks."

"Very slinky..." He smiled, raising one eyebrow. "Very short." He smirked. I smiled back. It was slinky, and it was short. The classic little black dress, ending way up on my thighs, with a plunging neckline, and very little left to the imagination. I was glad that he liked the way I looked.

"And those boots...I love those boots. You look hot, mum."

That was the moment I felt it. That moment when there's a tingle in your pussy, and a rushing feeling inside you. That feeling - the knowing. When you know that you look and feel horny, and someone else acknowledges that you look that way.

"Are they a new pair?

I exhaled, and ran a hand over the shaft of one of my boots, stretching the leather as my foot made circle shapes in the air.

"I bought them a few weeks ago." I looked over at him. Those tight black jeans and white t-shirt showed his well-toned body off very, very well "You like them baby?"

Leather knee length boots. If a woman's wearing long high-heeled boots on one of the hottest days of the year, it can only be because she knows any or all of three things. One: she knows how good it feels to have the her legs hot and encased in soft leather. Two: she knows how good she looks...how fuckable she looks in those shiny black leather boots. Three: she knows what effect it has on a man.

He nodded and smiled.

For a split second, my son's eyes gave him away. I was having that effect. Here I was, dressed - quite frankly - like a slut, and for a moment at least, I knew that he liked it. I busied myself, collecting together my purse, cigarettes, change and keys. Maybe I'd had one too many drinks to get me in the going-out mood, that's all. Or maybe that was just an excuse - I knew that I'd teased, almost flirted with him like this in the past. I pushed it aside.

Outside, a car horn sounded.

"My cab's here love. You know where everything is - don't drink me out of house and home while I'm out." I leaned in, cupping his cheek in my hand and kissed him. He kissed me back...fully on the lips, not lingering, but a good full kiss none the less.

"I'll see you later darling."

"Have a good night, mum."

----------------------------------------------------

It was probably around midnight when I semi-stumbled through the front door. I wasn't out of it by any means, but I was pretty well oiled.

"You still up love?" I called from the hallway as I locked the door and placed my purse and keys on the table.

"Yeah - in here mum."

It was a silly question really. The soft music coming from the living room, combined with the sweet smell of not-strictly-legal cigarette smoke gave away the fact that he was still awake.

"Someone's been having a good time I see." He was spread out on the couch, with a stoned grin on his face.

"How was your night mum?"

"Not bad at all, and I'm quite pissed thank-you. But I won't say no to a drag on what you're smoking."

I sat down next to him and he passed the joint to me. I wasn't adverse to the occasional smoke, as I'd discovered years ago when I'd caught him rolling up in the kitchen. I inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly and passed the cigarette back to him. As I sat there, I realised one of the side effects that smoking the stuff has on me - I get horny. Suddenly, I was keen to rekindle the conversation that we'd had before I went out - the chat between mother and son that seemed to have an edge of tension, of flirtation...

I started to make small talk. Occasionally we'd have bouts of giggling. I can't have been that far gone, as I used the laughter as an excuse to let my hand rest on his well toned thigh, gently running my fingers up and down as we talked. The conversation veered towards sex. I asked him about girlfriends; he asked whether I'd been dating anyone - nothing too serious, until... "You know mum, dressed like that, I'm surprised that you came home tonight, or at least came home alone."

I laughed. "What are you saying, young sir?"

"I mean, dressed the way you are...in that little black dress...and especially in those boots mum."

"What boots? These boots?" I giggled. "Mummy's long, shiny black leather boots? With the high heels?"

He looked at me. It was there in his eyes again. He nodded and bit his lower lip. There was a pause in the conversation. It seemed like a crossroads - which way would I walk?

"Did you think I was going out in my boots to get laid?"

" You went out dressed like you were looking for a fuck."

"You think I look like a slut baby?"

"I didn't mean that."

"It's okay - I do know what you mean, trust me love. And maybe you're right."

I knew what he meant - I could see the strain in his jeans where I'd made his cock hard. I looked like a cheap slut, a horny cheap slut on heat who wanted fucking...and I felt like one. Here I was flirting with my own son for God's sake, teasing him, making his cock bulge at the thought of his own mother. Mutton dressed as lamb - middle aged, no knickers, wearing a dress so short that he couldn't fail to have glimpsed my wet pussy, big heaving breasts pushing out of my dress, nipples visible through the thin cotton. All the time, drawing my son's attention to my stiletto heel boots zipped up to my knees. I felt ashamed and turned on in equal measures.

The silence seemed to last forever.

"I'm gonna get off up to bed mum, ok?"

"No problem baby - I won't be far behind you. Give your mummy a kiss goodnight, yeah?"

He leaned in and kissed me like he had earlier in the evening, maybe lingering just a second longer.

"Night baby."

------------------------------------------------------

I stood against my bed, pulled my dress up over my head, and tossed it to the floor. Once again, I felt the wave of lust coursing through me. Still wearing my boots, I stood with my feet apart, and ran a finger along my pussy lips up to my clit. Fuck...I needed fucking so badly. Lost in my reverie, I failed to hear the door opening behind me as I pushed two fingers up inside my cunt. Gasping, from the sensation, I raised my head. And then, in the mirror on the opposite wall, I saw him, my son - naked - coming up behind me. I turned my head to look at him, his mouth open, lust in his eyes, his thick cock, hard...hard for me.

Instinctively, I leaned forward, placing my hands on the bed. His hands grabbed the cheeks of my big round arse, before he slid a finger inside me, drew it out and circled my pussy, smearing my juices around my slit.

I gasped as his cock pushed inside me.

"Mum..."

"Yes baby...go on...it's okay..."

He thrust so deeply inside my cunt. "Do you want me? Do you want mummy?" He grunted, fucking me hard, pushing me forward so I was kneeling on the bed, my son fully inside me, as deep as I could take him.

"Oh my God...tell me I'm a slut. Am I a slut baby?"

"You're such a fucking slut mummy...a cheap filthy slut...a fucking tease..."

"Fuck me baby!"

" ...and I wanted you..."

"In my slutty little dress?"

"In that dress...you fucking tease...giving me the 'come-on'... it's not the first time is it mum... letting me see your cunt..."

"My tight, soaking wet cunt. I'm sorry baby...am I a bad mother?"

"And these boots..." He ran his hands firmly along my legs, and tightly gripped my ankles that were encased in the soft leather. "...your dirty leather fuck boots...you look like a whore in them mum., a filthy...fucking...whore in your shiny black hooker's boots."

"Oh God...you dirty bastard! Fuck me!" I gasped. "Fuck me, son...fuck your whore, baby...Mummy's a fucking filthy bitch, wearing her high heeled slut boots for you, making you want to fuck her."

He fucked me harder, stronger and faster. "You...dirty...fucking...slut. I'm gonna cum inside your cunt..."

"God yes....oh baby."

"I wanna watch my cum drip down your wet thighs onto your boots. Then I'm gonna rub my cum into the leather...and next time I want to fuck you, I'll fuck you in your cum stained fuck boots. Yeah?"

"Fuck! Yes, baby!"

His hands tightened their grip on my ankles. "Tell me mum!"

"I'll wear my boots for you...with your cum stains on them... your cum on my boots... take me out in my cum-stained boots. Oh God! Fuck my dirty pussy...fuck me..." I was close...so close.

"Does it feel good? Does it? Your grown son's cock fucking your pussy?"

"My baby, my baby...oh love..."

"Mum...mum..." I could feel the bucking spasm of his cock, and his hands move from my boots to grip my waist as he began to spunk inside me. I was overwhelmed - so close to the point myself, knowing a man was cumming in me, and knowing that the man filling up my cunt was my son, pushed me over the edge, and I squealed and gasped as he came, my juices washing over his cock, still bucking inside my wet fanny.

As I was trying to tell you at the beginning - I always knew that I looked like a slut. But at the end of the night, sprawled on the bed with my son's cum dribbling out of my pussy, down my leg and on my shiny black boots, I knew that I was a slut.