"Pet Mommy": Becoming a Mommy-Slut!

But I decided that perhaps I didn't know everything about Michael, especially his sexual likes and dislikes, so after he left for school the next morning, I returned to his laptop, and this time I checked his favourites. Most were game sites, but there were three Literotica addresses, as well as a pantyhose site. The first Literotica page was simply a list of new stories updated each day, the second was the top incest stories by score, but the third was one that gave me lots of information about my son's kinks. It was a search engine with the following tags: mom, son, and submission.

I clicked on the search button and was surprised to find 313 stories come up with those key words. I read a few of them, my pussy again on fire, and came to realize the three things he wanted the most: his Mom, in stockings, serving as his personal plaything. This knowledge should have appalled me, yet instead all I could think about was the wonderful prospect of my long dormant sexual needs being met like they hadn't been since my Jake, Michael's father, had died. I fingered myself to orgasm while fantasizing about my son becoming the dominant lover I'd been craving for so long. After another great orgasm washed through me, I put his computer away after erasing today's browsing history and headed out to work.

Remaining in my business attire that evening, I made supper and noticed Michael taking surreptitious glances at my legs all evening. Once the dishes were done, I asked, "Michael, can you do me a big favor?"

"Anything, Mom," he replied like the sweetheart he was.

"Will you give Mommy a foot massage?" I asked with a warm smile, again using 'Mommy' instead of 'Mom', which I noticed was the term used most often in stories about incestuous submission.

Michael's face went red and he stammered, "S-s-sure, Mom."

I grabbed both his hands, entwining them together like a loving couple would do, and walking backwards, led him to the couch. We then circled each other halfway before I gently pushed him down onto one end of the couch, seated myself on the other end and flipped my silky stocking-clad feet onto his lap. I could read the nervousness written all over his face as he froze.

I raised my left stockinged foot and tapped his nose playfully. "These feet won't get massaged by themselves, honey."

His face ruby red, he stuttered yet again, "S-s-sorry Mom." He nervously took hold of my left foot and began tenderly massaging it. Within seconds I felt his member growing underneath my right leg. I couldn't resist smiling, knowing what I was doing to my son.

I separated my legs slightly, not enough to be slutty and show him my panties, but enough to offer him a glimpse of my stocking tops. We were silent for a few minutes as I watched him, amused at his concentration while he massaged my foot. Eventually I asked, "Could you do my right foot now, sweetheart?"

"Sure, Mom," he replied, switching feet and not stammering this time, enjoying the task.

I started the conversation. "So... do you have a girlfriend yet, Michael?"

He answered sheepishly, "No."

"Why not?" I asked, "You're a great catch."

"The high school girls don't think so," he sighed, continuing to massage my right stocking-clad foot.

"You're smart, sweet and very handsome," I complimented slyly.

"You have to say that, you're my Mom," he pointed out, brushing away my sincere compliment.

"Don't you do that," I scolded him.

"Do what?" he asked, startled by my abrupt tone.

"Don't put yourself down like that," I admonished, moving my foot away and leaning into him for a hug, my hand 'accidentally' landing directly on his stiff cock. My son's eyes went wide, but I didn't move my hand away as I leaned in close to his ear and whispered, slightly seductively, "You look just like your father, and he was the sexiest man I ever met. You have the same eyes, the same smile and..." I gave a gentle squeeze to his erect cock, "...apparently you inherited something else from your dad."

Before he could respond, I gave him a quick peck on the lips and stood up. Brushing my skirt back down, I said, "Thanks honey, your hands felt amazing on my aching feet, but now I'm going for a shower." I started to walk away before pausing, turning around, and looking directly at his crotch suggested, "You probably should look after that. I think it's about to burst."

My son stared at me in stunned silence as I left him high and hard.

For the second straight day, my shower head and I became intimate as I plotted the next steps of my plan.

**********

The next morning I was dressed in a black skirt, a white blouse and beige thigh high stockings when Michael joined me for breakfast. We chatted casually about school until I stood up and said, having prepared for this, "Dammit, I have a run in my stocking." I placed my foot on the chair right next to my very captivated son, raised my skirt almost high enough to flash my panties and slid the stocking down my leg. My son's eyes watched the entire removal. Changing legs, I sensuously removed the second stocking complaining, "I don't have any more in this color, so I guess I'm going shopping before my first showing." I kissed my son on the forehead and left the stockings draped across the back of the chair as bait, leaving him alone as I headed out.

I waited five minutes then returned into the house, hoping to catch him in flagrante. As I'd hoped and expected, he was pumping away on his big cock with one of my stockings wrapped around it. I watched him for a minute before walking in from behind and spoke from out of the blue, "I forgot my purse, Michael."

He jerked up his pants and stammered, "Oh my god, Mom, I'm so-so-so sorry."

Fighting my growing desire to grab his exposed cock, I replied, flirtation dripping from every syllable I spoke, "Oh honey, it's ok, masturbating is natural; I hope you did it last night, too. Truth be told, I did it myself last night... twice."

"Mom!" he gasped, still frantically fumbling to get his pants closed, my stocking still wrapped around his cock.

"And please feel free to keep my stockings, if that's your thing," I offered with a coy smile.

"Mom!" he repeated, still humiliated at being caught in the act.

"So you have a stocking fetish too?" I asked, with a sexy smile on my face. "You really are just like your father," I said, grabbing my purse and leaving before he had a chance to respond.

I drove away, knowing another seed had been planted.

I returned home after lunch, flipped open his computer, went to the Literotica website and opened the story What Mom Doesn't Know Fucks His Mom (as it was the hottest of the stories I had read). I left the browser on that story and returned to work, leaving yet one more tease for my son.

A long day of showings, including two last-minute additions, meant I didn't get home till after seven. I came in, slipped out of my heels, went upstairs and knocked on Michael's door.

I heard a nervous voice say, "Come in."

I entered and sat down on the edge of his bed and rubbed my stocking-clad feet. I wasn't even lying when I said, "My feet are killing me."

From his small desk across the room he was staring at my perfectly manicured feet and red toenails, unable to make eye contact with me.

I asked sweetly, "Michael, could you please massage my feet again, like you did last night?"

"S-s-sure, Mom," he stammered, standing up.

"Come to Mommy," I beckoned, my finger beckoning him over and my tone dripping with sultry seduction.

He shyly obeyed.

I scooted up on his bed to rest my back against the headboard and ordered, as I patted the bed, "Sit down and join me."

He did, never once making eye contact. He sat tailor fashion at my feet, took my right foot in his hands and began massaging me. My legs were parted further than yesterday and if he looked up, he'd get a very clear look at my black panties... which after only a few seconds he did. He quickly looked away, flustered. Over the next couple of minutes, he continued to take quick peeks up my skirt as he continued the massage, his face redder than the flames of hell. I deliberately opened and closed my legs slightly to entice him. As he switched feet, I asked, "So, how was school today?"

He sighed, "Boring as usual."

"Any hotties on the horizon?"

"Not even on the radar," he replied, his confidence still nonexistent.

"Why not?" I asked, uttering a soft moan from his massage, adding, "you certainly have the magic touch with your hands."

Surprised by the compliment he stammered, "R-r-really?"

"Yes really, you have me feeling so relaxed right now," I said, allowing another moan to escape my lips.

Just then my cell phone rang, and I cursed to myself. I grabbed it and was asked if I could show a house in twenty minutes. I agreed reluctantly and sighed, getting up and saying, "I have to go honey, but did you know that tomorrow is Nude Day?"

"It is?" he asked.

"Yep. I wonder how average people celebrate Nude Day," I said, my smile implying something naughty.

"I-um-I don't know," he answered, rattled by my odd question.

At the door I paused and asked, "While I'm gone, why don't you check that Literotica site and read some of those contest stories to see what regular people enjoy doing?"

His mouth dropped like it would hit the floor, and I turned and sauntered away, a new plan formulating in my mind. If all went well, tomorrow would be the Main Event.

**********

The next day I scheduled myself off duty from three o'clock on, declining a four o'clock showing, determined to finish seducing my son. I arrived home, showered, dressed myself in only white thigh highs and an apron to cover my freshly shaved cunt and just over half of my tits but with a generous side-boob view, and started cleaning the house. At four o'clock, I put a casserole in the oven and an hour later was just making a salad when Michael arrived home. When he walked into the kitchen, he froze as he stared at me, my voluptuous breasts barely concealed by the apron. I greeted, "Hi, sweetheart. Did you remember what today is?"

He paused, trying to stare at the amazing sight of his mother almost naked without appearing to stare. It was an impossible task. "Um...."

I explained, "It's Nude Day."

"There really is a Nude Day?" he asked, "I thought that was just a Literotica fiction."

"Yes, there really is, silly," I flirted, before adding, "and Michael, you're now eighteen and old enough to celebrate Nude Day with your Mother. So for the rest of the evening, all clothing is forbidden."

Silence lingered for a while until he stammered, "M-m-mom, this is really weird."

I pouted, drawing him in, "Don't you want to celebrate Nude Day with me? Or is your Mother too old?"

He stammered, "N-n-no Mom, that's not it. It's just strange."

"Is it?" I shrugged. "I find it very liberating. It's been years since I went without panties." I lifted the apron to give him a quick flash of my hairless pussy.

"B-b-but you're my M-m-mom!" he stuttered, still trying to wrap his head around what was happening , his bulging pants revealing the impact my body was already having on him.

"And you're my son. I've seen you naked many times, baby, just not recently," I rationalized, before adding in my Motherly do-as-you-are-told-young-man tone, "Now get undressed, Michael."

"But you're wearing nylons," he pointed out.

"Yes, and I did that for you." I smiled, walking over to him and kissing his cheek. "Like your father, you clearly have a thing for stockings."

I pulled his shirt over his head and offered, "Unless you want me to follow the rules completely and take the thigh highs off? It's up to you, sweetie."

"N-n-no, p-p-please k-k-keep them on," he stammered, shivering at my touch.

"Your wish is my command," I teased, unbuckling his pants, hinting at my submissive nature. He was holding his breath, so I reminded him, "Breathe, baby, breathe," as I dropped his pants to the floor. His big hard cock wasn't being completely contained by his unflattering tighty-whities. "We've definitely got to get you some better underwear."

He nodded, unable to speak a word.

"Oh my, Michael, is that because of me?" I asked, my hand going to his prick.

"Oh God," he moaned and went even stiffer the instant my hand brushed against his cock.

As I pulled down his underwear his beautiful cock flopped into the open, giving me an eight-inch salute. It took every ounce of my willpower not to devour his cock then and there, but I wanted to make us both wait a bit longer.

I finished getting him naked, then stood up and went back to finish cutting the salad veggies. Michael hadn't moved an inch since I'd undressed him, so I asked, "Can you please pour us some wine?"

"Wine?" he asked.

"Today is a special day, Michael, so you may have some wine," I smiled, my tone implying we were soon going to create our very own Literotica story.

He did as I instructed, while I finished making the salad and pulled the casserole out of the oven. I noticed Michael taking quick glimpses at me every time he could, desperately trying not to be obvious, when in truth he was being just that. There wasn't anything at all covering my backside, so as I bustled around the kitchen, I took every logical opportunity I could find to face away from him. Finally, I suggested, "Michael, take a seat as Mommy fills your plate."

He sat down and I brought him his meal. I went back and grabbed mine, and after placing my plate on the table, I removed the final garment that was hiding my breasts and my recently shaved pussy. As expected, Michael stared, his mouth hanging open, literally watering. I sat down and began eating, creating conversation as if our nudity was the most normal thing in the world.

"So, Michael, anything exciting happen at school today?"

Trying to act nonchalant himself, he told me, "Aced my Calculus test."

"Excellent," I smiled. "You're such a good student and you've always been such a perfect son."

"Oh Mom," he said embarrassed, a crimson hue rising to his cheeks.

"Seriously, half the teenagers today are drinking, doing drugs, failing school and having sex, but you're a good boy, aren't you?" I asked, my tone demure.

"Yes, because everyone thinks I'm a loser," he pointed out, not exactly insulting himself, but just reporting the social hierarchy of high school.

"Well, based on that theory, Bill Gates was a loser too," I pointed out, before adding, "most of the so-called cool kids in high school end up peaking then, and afterwards doing nothing with the rest of their lives."

"You were cool," my son pointed out.

"I'm not now?" I pouted, luring him in.

"Y-y-you still are," he stammered, desperate to rectify any implied insult, "I-I-I just meant you're successful even though you were cool in high school."

"Aaaah thanks, sexy," I replied warmly, as he blushed at being called sexy, "but I'm successful partly because of my looks, not because of my academic prowess like you'll be."

"I hope you're right," he replied, letting out a soft sigh implying he wasn't convinced.

"Plus," I added, my seduction moving forward at full throttle, "once the girls see your fucking big cock and start gossiping about it, you'll have to beat them off with a stick."

"Mom!" Michael gasped again, shocked.

Continuing my sexual flattery, I added, "You've heard the saying it isn't the size that counts?"

"Yeah?" he answered doubtfully, not knowing my intent.

"That's total bullshit, and it's only said by nice girls to bolster the egos of insecure guys with small peckers," I announced.

"Jesus Christ, Mom!" he cried out, bewildered by this conversation and by the fact I didn't seem to mind he couldn't help staring at my big tits bouncing around in plain sight just across the table as I gesticulated, making my points.

"Trust me," I continued, "I had a wide variety of cocks back in the day, but your Dad's was the biggest and the best, and yours is even bigger than his."

"I can't believe you're talking about my penis," he said.

"It's called a cock, son. A big, and I am guessing, still really hard cock. Big..." I smiled, standing up. "...stiff..." I continued stalking slowly around the table towards him, "...cock," I finished, arriving next to him.

He stared up at me, speechless. Standing above him in a position of authority, I looked down past my naked breasts at his face, changed the subject and started asking a few rhetorical questions.

"So... you like erotic stories, don't you, my son?"

He attempted to speak, but I interrupted his stammer, reaching down to place my finger to his lips, my big tits just inches above him, my slightly wet pussy directly in front of him in plain sight.

"And you particularly like erotic stories about sons and mommies, don't you, my son?"

My hand reached down and wrapped gently around his, as expected, erect and ready-to-burst cock.

"And you seem to have a rather major fascination with women's stockings too, don't you?" I leaned back up, reluctantly letting go of his cock and placing my right foot on the chair next to his leg, which also gave him a very clear, up-close-and-personal look at the lips of his Mommy's cunt. "Do you like my thigh highs, Michael?"

So stunned he couldn't even speak coherently as my sexual attack on his senses overwhelmed him. "I-I-um-I-I-well-I..."

I took his hand and placed it on my leg. "Go ahead, son, feel Mommy's stockings. I've never heard that Nude Day is just for looking."

He obeyed, obsessed like a kitten with a ball of string by the feel of my silky leg.

I moaned, "Mmmmm, Michael, your hand feels so nice on Mommy's leg."

A moment later I put my foot back down, slid his dinnerplate aside and hopped up onto the kitchen table right in front of him. He watched, mesmerized, as both of my stocking-clad feet reached for his stiff missile. Stand by, Houston, I thought, we have liftoff! His dick quivered under my touch and I, without a word, began giving him a foot job. My knees were spread wide apart so I could wrap the soles of my feet around his cock, so my bare pussy was staring my stunned son in the face, my glistening inner lips clearly visible, a gaping invitation if there ever was one.

As I slowly stroked my stockinged feet up and down on my son's cock, he closed his eyes and let his long-held fantasy come true. In less than a minute he moaned and warned me, "Careful Mom, you're about to make me come."

I purred like the predator I was, "Then come for Mommy, baby, come all over Mommy's stockinged feet. I wore these just for you, baby... everything tonight is just for you."

Just as I finished purring, his white goo shot up in the air and most of it landed on my stockings, the rest on the kitchen table and the floor. I continued the sensuous foot masturbation of my son until the last droplet of his cum was released.

I asked, my voice still syrupy sweet, "Did you like that, baby?"

Michael finally opened his eyes and looked directly into mine. "T-t-that was amazing, Mom."

"Call me Mommy, Michael, isn't that what you want? A full-service Mommy?" I asked, lifting a foot to my mouth and gazing into his eyes, licked my son's cum from my foot.

His mouth was again wide open in shock as he watched this obscene act.

"Fuck, do you taste delicious," I smiled, switching feet and licking off some more of his cum before eventually purring to him, "Actually, I'd love to get more of this directly from the source."

I hopped off the tabletop and fell to my knees as my son watched me take his cock in my mouth.

"Oh God," he let out the instant my warm mouth completely swallowed his still erect cock. It had been a long time since I'd done a teenager, not since I was one myself, and I was grateful for his quick recovery time.