Mother 11

ARRIVAL

She'd be home soon.

I wanted to get everything cleaned up. I wanted everything neat and organized for her arrival. Dishes to wash, crumbs to get out of the couch, and countertops to clear up: everything was a bit of a mess.

The idea of her finding the house, her house, in this state would have caused me a panic attack. That is, had it not been for the baby's needs.

He had been crying all day without letting up--his ear infections.

The only thing that seemed to comfort him was the suckling. And even though I didn't produce his milk, he found comfort in suckling.

I'd let him.

It happened more often than necessary. And then she caught on. But it was alright she said. It would help him feel attached to me she said. And it did, it felt as if I was more than his nanny.

He was hers, and he was mine. And I loved that.

My nipples had gotten tougher and longer. My perfect little nubs went from tiny, rosy pink to thicker orbs in a dark brownish color. I didn't love it, but she did. It was alright.

Baby finally slept about an hour before she'd arrive. I flew through the house, rushing to tidy up. Everything was almost done when her footsteps shuffled outside and her keys jiggled at the door.

"Oh, hey!" She said, nonchalantly, the expected grander gesture did not appear. I always expected more.

"Hey." I said.

"The house looks a bit messy, and look at you. You need a good bath." Was her next, rather dismaying reaction.

Admittedly, the whole house wasn't in order, but it wasn't so bad. I, however, was rather frumpy looking. All I had on were old shorts and a shirt. No bra of course, since I hardly had anything to hold up, just a set of large protruding nipples. The fantasy of easier access always crossing my mind, except in instances like this where her words made me feel so small.

"Oh, I can see the baby has kept you busy today." She stared straight at my nipples as they stuck out thickly under the thin material of my shirt.

My face flushed. I hadn't been on top of everything. There was a lot I could have done better, organized baby time better. And I felt awkward that my nipples protruded so much. I felt awkward at how well she was dressed and how frumpy I always was when she came home.

"That's fine." She winked at me, holding up a large brown bag. "Mommy's home." She came to me and hugged me, kissed the top of my head and caressed my back. "I've got something here for you." She broke off.

She was curt and hurried, not as sweet and lovely as I always wished she would be. I could tell work had not gone well, or at least was quite hectic. Mother was a bank manager at a local bank with few branches. Work was always tough.

Mother always wore business clothing: a pantsuit, or skirt and jacket.

It's what I loved to see on her. The way everything seemed to fit perfectly. I always marveled at her blouses, loose silky things that only just outlined her breasts and tucked comfortably into her bottoms. I absentmindedly stared in her direction, she took no notice.

"Take it to your room." She left the brown bag at the table by the stairs.

"Work went okay?" I asked, meekly.

"Yes fine" She said hurriedly. "I'm assuming the baby is napping. I'll take care of dinner for him," she said, starting to undo her clothes as she walked. "I'm sure he'll be up in no time. Let's see if we can make it quick." She made her way upstairs.

"Oh. You're free to stay here or leave to your room." She called as she went up. "I'm sure you must have some thing to do for school." She called loudly and parentally from the top of the stairs.

"Okay." I yelled back.

"Oh, and make sure to clean yourself up. I'm making dinner tonight. Just us two, Mr. Alvarez will be out." She called again.

I couldn't help but smile. I knew what I was in for.

HURRIED STEPS

I ran off to my room, a garage apartment in her backyard. When I'd moved in, Mother made it clear that no one was allowed to come in unless I wanted them to. I was glad of it. Of course, Mother knew she had an open invitation. She never had to ask.

In the back of my mind I was ruminating through the ways I would dress for her. If she was going to prepare dinner, I thought, I'd wear the cute dress she'd bought me. From a box that showed up mysteriously on my bed one day after I'd returned from class.

It was a Kawaii frock, Alice in Wonderland themed, that I'd fawned over many a time. It was a wide skirted bottom, with a bit of puff. Buttons only on the bodice that fit snugly over my small breasts. White was the main color with some light blue piping against the shirt and waist. I loved it and had only worn it in front of the mirror for myself.

Mother was a woman of few words, her emotions were often hard to decipher, even from the first moment we'd met. It had taken a full year of seeing her at my coffee shop before she even uttered a full sentence. But morsels of her emotions are what I had lived for. The slightest show of consideration and love that she offered me I took in and catalogued. So this dress was my adoration. In a burning fire i'd run to get it before any vital piece of paperwork.

Yes. I would wear this dress for her. And I would give her all the access she wanted. Stockings and no panties. My fleshy folds were getting wet at the thought.

Mother had not given me attention for an entire week, and my body craved her.

I lay in bed, the mattress firmly supporting my body and the comforter and pillows enveloping me.

I lay there and considered taking out one of Mother's gifts from almost a year ago. A small, pink cylindrical thing, laughable in size now considering the point at which Mother had me. But it vibrated, and that is all I needed, a pinch of my brown little orbs and thorough vibrations.

I considered it too long, and didn't have enough time for it.

Instead, I rubbed myself, trying to conjure up the same feelings and sensations mother seemed to muster inside of me. I couldn't. Not with the anticipation building. Not with the small knot in my stomach. I wanted Mother's hands, Mother's lips, Mother's touch as she unleashed her perverted lust unto my accepting folds.

I pinched a nipple and rubbed my pussy, I turned over and got on all fours, thinking of what she'd done to me last week. I wanted a toy, I wanted the toys she didn't leave in my room, the one's she carefully used. I tried to, but I couldn't cum.

I stopped.

I tidied up what was not in its place and made sure my books and workload were in order, especially the stuff for the one class I had on campus the next day.

Mother had a role in how tidy I was. As a child, I never learned order and tidiness. But I realized how much Mother liked it. How elated she'd be by the sight of it, I wanted her to be happy, to be happy with me. And it soon became habit.

Even with school, Mother wanted me to finish school and often checked to see if I had everything up to date, studying, quizzes, take homes, everything. I needed order she said. It was now my junior year in college, and mother had helped me get through all of it and on schedule. Like a real parent might I imagined. Though her discipline tactics where perhaps not the same.

Realizing the time, I quickly washed up.

I put my dress on, fastened my stockings into a garter and left it at that. My pussy was wet and dripping a bit with anticipation.