"Hiya, Max Johnson." A sweet, girly voice broke him out of his reverie. He had been sitting in the library in front of an open book, his thoughts on nothing but the feeling of his mother's erect nipple, covered in lace, perched on his lower lip. The memory had claimed the greater part of his conscious thought all day.
He looked up to see Kitty Clifton standing next to him. He smiled distantly at the pretty girl, not taking in the way her skirt rode up her thigh, or the way her cropped top gaped at the bottom, just above his eye level.
Kitty, for her part, had had second thoughts about her impulsive action of the day before. What if the guy turned out to be a complete dork? She couldn't let it be known that she had gone out with a loser. She had her reputation as the most difficult girl to attain to protect. So she thought she'd see if his reaction to her teasing had been a fluke.
She had gone all out. Her flippy plaid skirt was at least two inches shorter than school regulations officially allowed. She knew she was showing an indecent amount of leg in the middle of a school day. Hell, if she leaned over too much, her panties would be exposed from the rear. And those panties... Her sexiest for school days, they were pink and lacy, French cut.
The crop top had once been a normal t-shirt, but she had cut out the collar as well as most of the midriff. Now it hung off one shoulder, revealing the lacy strap of the matching pink bra, which stood out in lovely contrast to her deep golden skin. The bottom of the shirt came only inches below the rounded curves of her breasts, and her slim flat belly was entirely uncovered. Her teardrop navel was a marvel of nature, with its neat little diamond stud piercing that she had convinced her father to give her for her sweet sixteen. She was pretty sure that with a little leaning back, someone at a lower level would be able to see her lace-encased tits from below. Someone sitting, say, at the level of Max Johnson.
With her hair in a braid, she was the epitome of teenaged sexiness, and she knew it. The girl exuded confidence from every pore. She was used to being the center of attention, used to getting everything she wanted. So the fact that this boy seemed unaware of her right now was beyond her comprehension.
Max looked at Kitty. She was surely lovely, he thought. But can she even compare to Mom? He watched as she hopped onto the table, the skirt flipping up to show what little was hidden behind its pleats.
"So," she smiled, "you ready for Friday night?"
Max' doubts about his upcoming date had been far from his mind all morning, so he leaned back in his chair and shrugged, then raised an eyebrow.
"Guess so. You?"
Her mind boggled. Where had this guy come from? She had to find out more. She arched her back slightly, causing the t-shirt to ride up her breasts.
"I'm ready for anything you are," she whispered slyly.
As if in a trance, Max saw his hand reach out and land on the cheerleader's knee. The skin felt so soft and smooth. He was sure his mother's skin was softer. He saw the girl's tits from under the shirt. As pert and firm as they looked, could they be any more exciting than the feel of his mother's against his cheek?
"You're looking good today, girl," he said casually. "Gonna look this hot Friday?"
Kitty's eyes widened at the challenge in his question. The feel of his hand on her leg was electrifying. It was as if he had taken possession of her.
"Hotter," she assured him, desperate for some kind of assurance from this guy. What had happened here? How had the power situation reversed itself? She couldn't say, but she liked the way it made her feel: excited, a little out of control.
Max laughed quietly. Who was this guy who seemed so self-assured? He wasn't sure, but he liked it. He gently squeezed the thigh, feeling the firm muscles under the skin.
"Looking forward to it," he said, smiling, then stood up and took his book, leaving Kitty gasping on the table. And as he walked away, he realized that the reason he was so in control was because of his mother. And he wanted more.
*****
Angela Johnson had spent the day floating on air. She couldn't believe how wonderful she felt. And every time she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror she felt like laughing at how young she looked. She was practically glowing.
And why not? She had the all the love she could hope for. Her darling husband had always been sweet and thoughtful. Making love with was always a tender and loving affair.
"But every once in a while, a girl wants something a bit rougher," she said to her reflection, then giggling at the blonde in the mirror. Because Gus had provided that in spades, just when she wanted it last night.
And even better, how supportive he had been of her. He had really helped her out in her relationship with their son, and now she felt so much closer to Max than she had ever done before. The young mother didn't examine the nature of the bond she was forging with her son. In fact, in her mind, looking at porn with her teenaged son while dressed in next to nothing while he brought himself to a mind-shattering orgasm in front of her was merely a parental method of acknowledging her child's burgeoning maturity.
But the truth was, of course, much deeper than that. In fact, that morning, when Angela had been showering, she shaved her legs, as she did every few days. But this time, when she finished with the stubble on her calves and lower thighs, she paused. Usually, she had no reason to shave any higher. The hairs on her upper thighs were soft and nearly invisible. And she had never had any call to shave her mound, because she had never worn anything that would have revealed any pubic hairs.
"Still," she thought, "I've gotten these g-strings, and if I'm going to wear them, I should wear them properly. Without worrying if any of my pubes are showing."
And with this justification, the woman got some shaving cream of her husband's and lathered up her pubic mound. With careful strokes of the razor, she removed a large portion of the downy hairs. Washing away the lather, she examined the area thoroughly, trimming here and there until there was only a small patch of hair neatly outlined, just above the start of her crease.
But she still wasn't satisfied with her results. So she got a hand mirror and placed it on the floor. Squatting above it, she shaved the hair on her labia using the mirror to show her all of her crevices. By stretching her lips, she managed to get every last hair off of her vulva. She even used the razor between her butt cheeks to remove a couple of hairs there. And then she stood up and walked out of the bathroom to stand in front of her floor length mirror in her bedroom.
The sight was amazing. She had never imagined she could look so erotic. Her pussy lips stood out so prominently, and her little clitoris was displayed so rudely up front. The small trim patch of hair above her sex hid nothing, only advertising that she was, in fact, a grown woman, and not a little girl who had no hair yet.
"Just the way Max likes it," she thought, not noticing how the idea caused her pussy to throb. On a whim, she turned around and got on all fours, with her legs spread widely. Looking over her shoulders, she saw how she was presenting her womanhood blatantly, the lips engorged and so wide-spread that she thought she could see into the depths of her pussy. And above the pink labia, the deeper salmon star of her anus winked at her. With her blonde hair gleaming wet from the shower, she looked just like one of the models in Max' websites.
"Not bad for a thirty-eight year old," she whispered.
Now she was making dinner, wearing one of those g-strings, a red one in fact, under her white peasant skirt. She delighted in the way her ass cheeks rubbed against each other around the little string down the crack. She felt so free, so easy.
And when Max came home and saw her, he had whistled low.
"Hey, Mom. You look really pretty."
Angela blushed.
"Oh, silly. I bet you say that to all the girls."
"Nope," laughed Max. "In fact, I think you're the first."
His mother leaned against the counter and looked directly at him. A little frown line appeared between her beautiful eyes.
"The first, Max? I think you need to talk to some more girls, honey."
"Oh, never mind," Max said, disgruntled, and went up to his room. Why couldn't she just take his compliment without worrying about him?
Angela shrugged, refusing to let the exchange darken her mood.
*****
After dinner, Max went to his father's study.
"Dad? Can I talk to you?"
"Sure, son," Gus said, turning away from his spreadsheets. "What can I do you for?"
Max smiled weakly, trying to figure out a way to broach what would be a pretty delicate subject.
"Dad, how do you talk to girls?"
"Hmmm," his father said, thoughtfully. "That's a pretty big topic, Max. I'm not sure what you're looking for. Is there some specific situation that you're talking about?"
"Uh, yeah, I guess so," Max said, looking down at his feet.
"C'mon in and sit down. Make yourself comfortable." The teenager walked across the room and plunked down in an armchair. "Now, why don't you start at the beginning."
"O-okay. Um, there's this woman, see. She's, um, kinda older than me, right?" Which was the truth, of course. "And I think she's interested in me, but I'm not sure if I want to go there? Or if I really should?"
Gus had an inkling suddenly of what Max was talking about, and he was very unsure if he wanted to continue the conversation. But he steeled himself, because he was in part responsible for what was going on in his house.
"Go on, Max."
Max was relieved that his father hadn't just gotten angry at him. He didn't think his Dad knew about what was going on between his Mom and him, but he wasn't sure.
"But she makes me feel, like, pretty good, y'know, that she's interested in me, and that makes me pretty confident. And that's good, right? 'Cause there's this other girl at school that I sort of asked on a date by accident because of how confident I felt right at that moment. You know what I mean?"
"Uh, hang on a sec," Gus said, now somewhat amused. "How did you ask this other girl by accident?"