Dressing Up 2

Normally I would never enter my daughter's room without knocking; at twenty years old she's a grown woman and entitled to her privacy; but the door was slightly ajar, and some instinct made me just push it open and walk right in. So I suppose I got the surprise I deserved.

Zoë was sitting on the bed with a complete stranger, both were sideways on to me and didn't notice me enter the room at first. Zoë had a lipstick in one hand, and was applying it to the other girl's mouth.

Suddenly Zoë noticed me, and stood up, scattering make-up on the floor. She looked terrified to see me. The stranger also turned towards me, and I realised this was not one of Zoë's friends, but my own son, Scott! I stood there, stunned into silence, as I took in his appearance. He was wearing a shoulder length blonde wig; Zoë had made him up, and I have to say he looked stunning. But what shocked me most was the fact that he was wearing only a pair of Zoë's pale-blue silky panties, which were being strained to the limit by a huge erection!

At first I couldn't speak, I was so shocked by what I was seeing. Shocked, and I have to admit, aroused. Eventually I found my voice.

"You've made him up beautifully," I said to my daughter. "You look... lovely, Scott." I added, in a hoarse whisper.

"You're not going to kill us, then?" Zoë asked, her voice trembling.

"No," I replied, still shaken. "But I think we'd better finish the job off, don't you?" They both looked at me, uncertainly.

"Let's go to my room. My stuff might fit him better."

Once we were in my bedroom, Zoë and Scott started to relax. They realised I wasn't angry with them, but they were still unsure about what was going to happen.

"Come and help me find something," I said to Zoë. She started rummaging through the wardrobe, while I searched my drawers for a pair of stockings.

"How about these?" I said, holding up a pair of very sheer black hold-up stockings. Scott nodded, eagerly. His panties were bulging nicely again.

"Mum, I don't think those knickers really suit him, " said Zoë. "Have you got something a bit... sexier?"

I rifled my underwear drawer again and came up with a pair of lacy white panties and a matching bra. Meanwhile Zoë had picked out a white silky blouse, matching it with a short blue pleated skirt.

Now for the awkward bit. I knelt in front of Scott and pulled his panties down. His cock sprang free, and I felt tiny drops of precum splash my face. Scott stepped out of Zoë's pants and allowed me to put the white pair on him. All the time, my son's erect manhood was bobbing about only inches from my face. What the hell. I gave it a quick kiss and grinned up at him. The look on his face was indescribable. I pulled the panties up tightly around his crotch, his precum immediately soaking through the flimsy material. Zoë hadn't seen me kiss Scott's cock, and I wondered what her reaction would have been. Maybe the two of them had been a lot further; I really had no idea what they might have been up to together, but thinking about it gave me a warm tingle between my thighs.

Zoë and I finished dressing Scott. When we were done, he looked really gorgeous. With the bra stuffed full of tissues, he looked very convincing. You wouldn't have known from a first glance that he wasn't what he appeared to be. I wouldn't even have recognised him as my son!

"You've got some great stuff here, mum," said Zoë. "Can I try some of it on?"

"Why not?" I said. "We might as well all get dressed up!"

Zoë quickly stripped down to her bra and pants, totally unselfconscious, making me wonder again about how intimate she had been with Scott. She looked so damn sexy in her black underwear, I found myself being aroused by the sight of my daughter's body.

Zoë went back to her room to find one of her own tops, and I turned to face my son. I pulled him to me and put my hand under his skirt, allowing my fingertips to brush against his cock. The feel of his hot, hard member wrapped in soft white lace brought a flush to my face, my breasts, my groin.

Zoë came back wearing a skimpy pink top, with tiny straps that didn't quite cover her bra. She must have seen where my hand was, but she made no comment. Returning to that almost bottomless drawer, Zoë fished out a pair of black stockings and a suspender belt. She completed her ensemble with a very short, very tight black skirt that I hadn't been able to get into for years.

So now it was my turn. Zoë sat on the bed next to Scott, and I noticed her hand rested nonchalantly on his stocking-clad thigh. I stood in front of them and performed a slow striptease. What I was wearing wasn't very sexy, leggings and a jumper, but I put on a bit of a show, and they were soon giggling helplessly at the sight of their old mother acting like a sexy young tart.

Their laughter soon subsided once I stood naked in front of them, and they looked at me thoughtfully. Zoë's hand had disappeared under her brother's skirt, and I knew she must be touching his cock. It felt so good to be naked, especially in front of these sexy young people, my own children! It gave me such a buzz I felt dizzy, and for a moment I thought I would pass out.

As I ran my hands over my belly and thighs, Scott's eyes were fixed on my groin, his face red, drops of sweat on his forehead. Zoë's hand was writhing under his skirt, making him grunt occasionally.

I moved my hands higher, cupping my breasts, pushing them together, trapping the nipples between my fingers, squeezing hard. God, that felt so good!

I moved closer to Scott, taking his head in my hands and holding him tight against my belly. I felt his hands on my hips, moving down over my thighs and back up again to my ass. My own son, my eighteen-year-old son, was touching my naked body, groping me, stirring feelings deep inside me. Scott moved his head down lower and I could feel his wet, slippery tongue probing me.

Zoë got up and stood behind me, reaching round to take my breasts in her hands, nuzzling my neck, nibbling my lobes, breathing gently in my ear. Scott was lapping at my pussy, his technique was not very refined, but it didn't need to be, I felt so hot and horny I couldn't have stopped myself climaxing if I had wanted to. I leaned back against Zoë and she held me tight as my orgasm washed over me. Scott leaned back, flushed and panting, a prominent bulge lifting his skirt up.

I indicated to Scott to take his knickers off, and he did so. He pulled his skirt up around his waist and I got a good look at his hard tool, gloriously long and fat and smooth-skinned. Zoë got on the bed with him; she had stripped completely naked, and as she knelt between her brother's legs, her pert round cheeks pointed in my direction, I felt weak at the knees.

I slumped down into an armchair and watched as my daughter began to give her brother an expert blowjob. She started by licking and sucking his balls, taking them into her mouth. Then she licked up and down each side of his shaft, circling the base of his cock with thumb and forefinger, cupping his balls with her other hand. Lowering her mouth onto him, Zoë clamped her lips around the thick ridge of his glans, sucking and slurping away, obviously enjoying it immensely.

Almost without realising it, I had spread my legs and was rubbing my little button furiously, bringing myself to another orgasm. On the bed, Zoë was wanking Scott into her mouth, pinning his hips to the bed, not letting him move as she sucked hard, drawing his cum from his balls.

Abruptly Scott stiffened and grunted, and Zoë's cheeks bulged as he shot his load into her mouth. Thick, creamy-white cum dribbled past her lips and down her chin. Zoë squeezed his sac gently, milking him of every last drop.

As I recovered from my own climax, I heard a car outside.

"Look out, it's your father," I jumped to my feet and looked out of the window. Sure enough, there was Brian getting out of the car.

"Let's go to my room and clean you up," Zoë said to Scott, her speech slightly slurred by her mouthful of cum. I quickly got dressed and went downstairs to greet my husband.

As I kissed him hello, it occurred to me to tell my husband what his family had been up to while he was at work. Not just yet though. Maybe next time.