Girl's Night Out

Saturday afternoon. My husband Brian was away, our son Scott was playing rugby. Zoë and I were bored.

"Mum?"

"Yes, sweetheart?" I replied, not looking up from my book.

"When Scott comes home..." she left the sentence hanging.

"If you like." We both knew what we were talking about. Scott was our grown-up, real-life, dressing-up doll. He wouldn't complain, he never did.

When Scott got home he slung his bag into a corner of the kitchen, scattering dried mud everywhere. I glared at him.

"Bathroom," I snarled.

"What?" he replied, in the surly tone that comes so naturally to eighteen-year-old boys. It's funny, most of the time he's a typical teenager, rude, crude and selfish; but after Zoë and I have been to work on him, he becomes the perfect little lady.

"You heard," I said, dragging him upstairs.

Zoë had already run the bath. She was sitting on the side, idly dangling her hand in the water. Zoë and I were both wearing just t-shirts, in preparation for what was to come. We knew it was going to be messy.

Scott waited for us to leave, in vain.

"Come on," Zoë snapped. "We've seen it all before."

Scott started to undress, grumbling all the while, uncomfortable with us watching him. But Zoë was right, we had both seen Scott's lovely thick manhood. He had nothing to be embarrassed about.

Once Scott was naked, Zoë stood up to allow him into the bath.

"Now then, darling," I said, with relish. "Mummy's going to get you nice and clean. All over!"

I didn't think a human being could get any redder, but my son managed it, somehow. Zoë handed me a bar of soap and a sponge, and I started working up a lather. I sat on the edge of the bath and began soaping Scott's back and shoulders, working my way round to his chest. He had a lovely smooth body, the only problem being his hairy legs. But we intended to do something about that.

"Stand up," Zoë said. Scott obeyed, meekly. Picking up another sponge, Zoë started soaping his legs. We were both working towards his groin, from opposite directions. I got there first, rubbing all around his beautiful meaty cock, which had already reached the horizontal, while Zoë lathered between his legs and around his balls. We continued to soap him until I sensed we might be approaching a critical point.

"Better stop now, darling," I advised Zoë. She took the shower attachment and hosed him down; seemingly fascinated by the way the water ran off the end of his erection.

"OK, out you get," I ordered. We towelled him off, taking care not to get him too excited. By the time he was dry, his cock was drooping again.

"Right, what's next?" he asked. I sensed he was more relaxed now, and actually looking forward to whatever we had planned for him. He soon lost his enthusiasm when he saw the razor in Zoë's hand.

"What are you gonna do with that?" he asked, uncertainly.

"Oh, don't be a dipshit," she replied. "We're hardly going to cut your cock off, are we?" My daughter, the perfect lady.

We quickly lathered Scott's legs with shaving foam, working up from his feet. Once again, when I got to his balls and cock I couldn't resist playing with them, coating his genitals with that creamy foam, working my fingers round between his cheeks. He drew in a sharp breath as I slipped a finger into his ass.

"Mum," he protested.

"What's the matter, sweetie, don't you like that?" I asked, innocently sliding my finger deeper. He moaned.

Zoë and I started shaving Scott's legs. When we got to the groin area, Scott turned pale, but Zoë told him not be a wimp. He kept very still as I shaved his balls and cock. Then we made him bend over and spread his cheeks while Zoë finished off around his asshole with an electric razor.

"Good boy!" Zoë cried, as she finished, giving Scott's ass a firm slap. "Now mummy is going to give you your reward."

Zoë bent over to empty the bath and clean it. Hitching her t-shirt up around her waist, she revealed her bare backside, as perfectly round and smooth as a peach. I positioned Scott behind her, only inches away. Standing behind him and slightly to one side, I began to masturbate him.

Several times while I was wanking him, Scott reached out to touch his sister, but I slapped his wrists and he stopped. The bath was clean now, sparkling like a new pin, but Zoë stayed leaning over, swaying her hips from side to side, taunting and teasing her brother.

Scott's prick was rock hard now, engorged with blood, as I wanked him faster and faster. Suddenly he gave a loud grunt, and thick white strings of cum were spurting from his cock, all over Zoë's ass. I wiped up the last drops, and showed Scott my hand, covered in his sticky mess. Then I lovingly licked my fingers clean one by one, taking them into my mouth, sucking them as I would a cock, maintaining eye-contact with my son all the time.

Sending Scott off to my room, Zoë and I started cleaning up. We showered together, as we like to do, but sadly we had no time to play. We had plans...

When we got to my room, Scott was sitting on the edge of the bed, still naked. He had a pair of my panties wrapped around his cock, and was wanking furiously.

"Naughty boy," Zoë admonished him crossly. Snatching the panties from him, she roughly slapped his hands away from his cock.

"Are you going to make him up, Zo?" I asked.

"Yes, as long as he behaves himself," she replied, taking Scott by the hand and dragging him to her room.

About half an hour later, Scott returned alone. Zoë had done a marvellous job with his make-up, classy and understated, not at all tarty. She had managed to soften the lines of his face, making him look very feminine indeed. He was also wearing a very natural-looking blonde wig. I made a mental note to ask Zoë where she had got it.

"Well, darling, you look gorgeous," I told him. "Now, we must find you something to wear."

I myself was already dressed; a white basque, g-string and stockings, under a slutty red PVC mini-dress, the kind that zips up at the front; all finished off with a pair of red knee-length boots. I had found Scott some underwear, black lacy panties and bra, but I couldn't make up my mind about the rest of his outfit. At that point, Zoë returned, looking breathtakingly beautiful, as she always does. Her breasts were covered by a minuscule white band of material, leaving her stomach bare; her black skirt came to just above the knee, slit almost to the hip; no tights or stockings. Wondering if she was wearing any panties, I slid my hand under her skirt. We both giggled uncontrollably as my hand brushed her pubic hair.

Scott was sitting on the bed, in his panties and bra. I found some tissues to pad out his bra, while Zoë searched the wardrobe for something he could wear.

When Zoë had finished dressing him, Scott looked ravishing. A black sleeveless, polo neck; a creamy-white skirt to just above the knee; and black tights.

The only problem was the size of his feet. Fortunately, at the back of the wardrobe there was a pair of black knee-length boots I bought years ago, miles too big for me, but I had never got around to taking them back to the shop. Scott was just able to squeeze his feet into them.

When Scott was finished, I stood in front of him. Taking his face in my hands, I pressed my lips to his, forcing my tongue into his mouth. He responded, eagerly, and I could feel his hands running over my body. I reached under his skirt and gave him a leisurely rub. Zoë's hand joined mine, and we stroked and caressed his cock while taking turns to kiss him and each other. Scott's hands were all over us, and I could feel his cock starting to twitch. Time to cool things down!

"OK, ladies, time to hit the town."

A look of panic spread over Scott's face.

"No way am I going out like this!" he protested.

"If you do this for us," Zoë whispered in his ear, "just imagine what we'll do for you..."

To Be Continued...