Mum's Sexual Re-Awakening Pt. 01

It had not been a good year for my mother. Dad had left her for a younger woman, cementing an affair which it turns out had been going on for the best part of a year, and this had really shaken mum's fragile confidence. In earlier years she had been quite slim, though with shapely hips, and although her boobs were not particularly large, they were surmounted by conspicuously large nipples, which mum had always tried to hide by wearing "sensible" bras. Like many women she had filled out a little in middle age. She was now 50 years old, her hair was going grey, and comfort eating had piled on the pounds after their split. As a result she had developed what I found an attractively full set of curves, and was very well proportioned, her plump thighs and rounded belly matching her noticeably bigger boobs.

The marital home had been sold, and mum had bought a small flat with her share, but dad had not left her in a favourable financial position, and she was supporting herself with a part time checkout job, the proceeds of which mainly went on bills and food. So she had not been able to afford to expand her wardrobe in keeping with her increased weight. Most of the clothes that she could still get into were of the kind that would stretch to accommodate her fuller figure. This of course only served to emphasise her blossoming curves, and made mum even more self conscious about her appearance. I tried to reassure her that in many men's eyes the extra weight she was carrying was a bonus and that she should be proud of her figure, but she wasn't convinced.

For some months after dad left mum mainly hid herself away, apart from going to work and the shops. Dad had very much ruled the roost, and most of mum's social life had revolved around dad's circle of friends, and with no relatives living nearby, mum had been left feeling pretty lonely. So when mum was invited to join a leaving do for one of her supermarket colleagues, she was more than happy to accept. Her normal attire was black leggings and dark coloured tops, but her more sober evening wear no longer fitted her, and her options were very limited, so she reluctantly donned a stretchy black dress . Although it was fairly short, the neck line wasn't too low, and she hoped the dark colour would help to disguise her fuller curves a little.

As tends to happen on these occasions, the drinks flowed freely, and although mum had certainly not intended to get drunk, she found herself getting very pleasantly merry as the evening wore on. She had really enjoyed the opportunity to get out of the house, and the good company, and found she was no longer too preoccupied about the way she looked. But when the rest of the party decided to move on to a nightclub, mum had already spent most of the cash she had set aside for the evening,and made an excuse not to join them.

So she was left in the pub on her own to finish her drink, but as she did so a man of about her age came over and offered to buy her another. Mum was quite unprepared for this, as it hadn't even crossed her mind that any man would find her sufficiently attractive to want to do so. At first she refused, saying she had drunk too much already, but the man seemed quite pleasant, and it took little persuasion for her to agree to one more drink. He took her to met his two friends and they got chatting. After several minutes of small talk she was amazed and charmed to find herself being looked up and down and complemented on her figure. In due course she was offered another drink, but although she would have loved the attention she was receiving to continue, she suddenly felt very vulnerable now that her colleagues had gone, and regretfully refused, saying she had to get home.

The next day mum felt rather embarrassed about having got drunk, but at the same time thrilled that a man had found her sufficiently attractive to want to buy her drinks. The possibility that his main motive may have been the hope of getting his leg over didn't seem to have occurred to her. And on further reflection, she had to admit to herself that the sensation of getting drunk and the boost it gave to her confidence was actually quite agreeable. ( I remembered that dad had sometimes inveigled mum into getting drunk, and she had always become quite giggly and coquettish. I suspect his primary purpose had been to indulge in some less inhibited sex than was usually on offer. )

Anyway, her work colleagues must have found her company convivial, and a few weeks later she was happy to accept an invitation to join them to celebrate one of their birthdays. This was to be at a large lively pub in town. I remembered that mum had a short blue sleeveless dress with a low neck line, which I knew would show off her naturally enhanced cleavage to good effect. I think dad had bought it for her, and it was so clingy that mum, who was basically quite shy, wasn't too keen on wearing it, even when she was slimmer. But the knowledge that she could still attract male attention had been very seductive, especially if it helped pay for her drinks, so I kept encouraging her to wear it. "You'll be with a group of friends," I pointed out, "And in any case there will be lots of other women in revealing outfits at that kind of pub, so you won't feel out of place." Mum was still reluctant, but I made her promise to wear it.

The evening of the birthday outing arrived, and mum put the dress on, but avoided looking at herself in the mirror. First she needed some Dutch courage, so she walked to a nearby pub, took a deep breath, walked up to the bar and ordered a large glass of wine. The pub was busy with early evening drinkers, but mum felt too self conscious to make any eye contact. She made short work of her first glass and ordered a second. At this point the barman started chatting to her, in between serving other customers.

Mum felt very flattered as he was both young and quite handsome, though it was probably the prospect of studying the cleavage on display instead of contemplating the beer taps that must have been the main appeal. But mum was just happy to have some male company. He had such a nice manner and a winning smile that mum found herself getting quite flirtatious with him. By the time she had finished her second drink, though, the barman was getting quite busy, so it was time to say goodbye and move on.

The combined effects of the alcohol and the attentions of the barman had given mum a much needed boost to her confidence as she rode the bus into town. So it was with more assurance that she went into the town centre pub to meet her fellow revellers. She felt obliged to buy the birthday girl a drink as well as her own, which further depleted her meagre financial resources. Like mum, the rest of the women had already downed a few drinks, and the conversation and laughter flowed freely. After a while a couple of lads came over to talk to them, but it was clear they were more interested in the younger members of the party. Mum had a couple more drinks, but decided that the next would be her last, partly because she was starting to feel quite drunk, but also because she was running out of money.

By now the pub was very busy, and mum had to say excuse me to a small group of men, so that she could get to the bar. But one of them looked her up and down, and to mum's astonishment and delight, offered to refill her glass. This gave them the opening to start chatting to her, and prolong the opportunity to ogle her cleavage, but by now mum must have had enough alcohol in her veins not to let it worry her too much. Her company was congenial enough for them to offer a second drink, but mum was feeling guilty about having abandoned her colleagues, so she regretfully declined and went to rejoin the Birthday group. But the further boost this had given to her confidence was enormous, and she caught the last bus home feeling more happy with herself than she had done for months.

I usually phone mum every weekend to see how she is, but if I was free on the Sunday I would drive over to see her instead. I would normally take her out for a leisurely Sunday roast, accompanied by a couple of glasses of wine, and then we would return to her flat and chat or watch TV for a while until it was time for me to go. It was on these occasions that mum would tell me how she was feeling and what she had been up to, and this was how I got to hear about her nights out. After a couple of glasses of wine she was relaxed enough to tell me everything that had gone on without embarrassment, apparently relieved to have someone she could confide in who understood her situation and didn't judge her. On the contrary, I encouraged her to get out more, rather than moping around at home.

But she still felt uncomfortable about her age and the weight she had put on, even though I lost no opportunity to remind her that I wasn't the only one who found her fuller figure very attractive. If she thought it odd that I found my own mother appealing in that way, she didn't say so. We sat together on her sofa, and she would snuggle up to me, clearly enjoying the close physical proximity, as I'm sure she must have been quite lonely spending many evenings in on her own. On these occasions I also had a sense of contentment that we had re-established an emotional connection that had been partly broken during my teenage years and after, when I - like many young men - felt the need to establish my independence and identity. But there was more to it than that. It was becoming harder to deny that my feelings towards mum weren't just innocent affection.

Mum looked much sexier than she probably imagined when dressed in leggings and a top, mainly because they were all at least a size too small. The leggings in particular were like a second skin encompassing her full hips, tummy and thighs, and packaged her bottom so invitingly that it was a real effort not to give it a slap. The inevitably close-fitting tops also served to emphasise her bigger bust. Each time I visited her I would find myself gazing ever more lustfully at her increasingly generous curves.

When I arrived, I would hug her more tightly and for longer than than the usual perfunctory embrace between family members, relishing the feel of her body against me, and taking advantage of the opportunity to give her bottom a playful slap or squeeze. Not than mum seemed to mind or find it at all odd. She certainly didn't try to pull away. The same feelings would be aroused when we snuggled together on her sofa. I would put my arm around her, and she would cosy up even closer, so that I couldn't help but feel those delightful curves resting against me.

Another few weeks went by after the birthday celebration, but no more invitations had been forthcoming, and mum had reverted to her habitual nights in front of the telly, and snacking on chocolates and crisps wasn't making her any slimmer. I tried to encourage her to go out on her own, but with her underlying lack of confidence she was understandably reluctant to do so.

"I would feel awkward on my own," she said.

I reminded her that she had already proved to herself that certain men at least found her sufficiently attractive to be buying her drinks, so that she wouldn't be on her own for very long.

"But I'd feel so vulnerable," mum responded, reasonably enough.

"Always have an escape clause," I suggested. "If you don't like the way things are shaping up, say that you have to get home to attend to your aged mother, that should put them off."

Mum considered this, but then said: "The trouble is, I haven't really fancied any of the men that have talked to me, and they all seem to be at least as old as me. Apart from the barman at my local," she added, "I fancied him all right."

So that was it, mum was really more interested in attracting younger men. What a boost that would give to her confidence. The trouble was that she really did look her age, what with her greying hair. Suddenly I had an idea.

"Why don't you dye your hair," I said to her, "That would take years off you."

"Well, for one thing I couldn't afford it," mum pointed out, "Do you know how much it costs?"

I didn't, but without thinking I said: "I'll pay. Make an appointment this week, and I'll give you the money."

Mum hesitated, then said: "OK then, why not?"

"But you've got to promise me you'll make an effort to go out," I said.

"We'll see," mum replied, non committally.

As I've already mentioned, mum's evening wardrobe was by now quite limited. Any spare cash she did have was being spent on bigger bras, as her existing ones were becoming uncomfortably tight. And as any woman will tell you, good quality bras aren't cheap. To try and encourage her to get out more, I decided that I would need to buy her a new outfit. I was due to come and see her the following Sunday, so I told her that we were going to go shopping after lunch . Mum of course said that she couldn't afford it, but to her delight I told her I would be paying.

I arrived a little earlier than usual, and had forgotten that she was supposed to have been arranging to have her hair coloured. So when she opened the door, I was taken completely by surprise. In her younger days, mum's hair had been dark brown, and this is what I had assumed she would dye it, but I was astonished to find myself looking at a strawberry blonde. It certainly had the desired effect of making her look years younger, and yet appeared quite natural. Mum was obviously delighted with the result; she looked radiant, and gave me a big hug, kissing me full on the lips, which was as unexpected as it was pleasurable.

"You look amazing," I said, "It takes ten years off you."

"Well, I don't know about that," mum replied, "But it suits me all right, does it?"

"It certainly does," I assured her.

I asked her to put on the blue dress she had worn to the Birthday celebration. Mum looked doubtful, but I told her that I remembered it was a really nice dress, and that I'd like to see her in it again. She still hesitated, but then went into the bedroom to change. When she returned with it on I couldn't conceal my delight.

"You look gorgeous," I told her, "I can certainly see why you attracted the men."

"Are you sure it wasn't just the chance to ogle my boobs?" mum said.

"Well, they do look really inviting," I had to admit, "But the whole package is pretty darn hot," I said earnestly. To say that it was a snug fit would be something of an understatement, it followed every curve of her voluptuous body. I couldn't take my eyes off her. She patted the swell of her tummy. "I think it makes me look fat," she complained.

"Nonsense," I scoffed, "You are beautifully proportioned. If you weren't my mother, I'd be making a move on you myself." I tried to make the comment sound light-hearted, but although mum's eyes widened, she didn't seem to be totally taken aback by this admission. She gave me a penetrating look which I couldn't interpret, but said nothing.

However, the last thing I wanted was for mum to feel conspicuous and uncomfortable wearing this outfit. Our usual country pub where we went for lunch had a predominantly older clientèle, with most of the women dressed in a fairly restrained manner. So I suggested we go to a town centre pub for a change, where there was likely to be a younger and more fashionably dressed crowd, and mum readily agreed.

She certainly received some approving looks from the men in the pub when we went in, even though most of them were with their wives or girlfriends. Mum must have been feeling self-conscious though, and was drinking faster than usual, so instead of her usual two glasses of wine, she had finished her third glass by the end of the meal. I did notice she was a bit unsteady as she rose from her seat, so it was a good excuse to put my arm snugly around her waist.

Mum had already said that she really needed a new pair of jeans, as her existing ones had become too tight for comfort. I wasn't sure that jeans would be a sensible option, as they don't have much give in them, and if mum was still putting on weight, as I suspected, they wouldn't fit her for very long. Mum saw some pairs that she liked, but as I was paying I insisted we kept on looking.

Eventually I saw something that I just had to persuade mum to try on. It was a pair of blue lycra stretch leggings. I selected a bright red crossover top with a plunging neckline in an equally stretchy material to go with them, and told mum to try them on. I asked mum what size she was. She looked at me ruefully.

"14," she replied, after a slight hesitation, though I think we both knew she was by now well on the way to being a size 16. As luck would have it, they didn't have a 14 in the leggings, so I told her to try on a 12.

Mum hesitated. "I thought I was supposed to be buying something that fitted me," mum protested, but I demonstrated to her that the material was indeed very accommodating, and gave her a size 12 top to go with it. She examined the top and said: "This is very small, and anyway, it's cut so low my bra will show."

"That's true," I agreed, "I think it would look much better on you without a bra," I suggested.

"You must be joking!" mum exclaimed.

"Go on," I encouraged her, "Just try it on, you'll see." Mum frowned, but took both the clothes into one of the fitting rooms.

I knew that with three glasses of wine inside her, her natural shyness would have been compromised. Had she been sober, I'm sure she would have refused. After some minutes she re-appeared. The leggings fitted her like a second skin, and were cut low on the waist, allowing her tummy to bow out unrestricted over the elastic waistband. In truth, the top was a little on the small side, but the elastic material supported her boobs to perfection, whilst revealing an immodest amount of cleavage, and her prominent nipples were clearly outlined through the thin material. It was also a shade too short, leaving a tantalising gap of bare flesh. Mum tried to pull down the top to cover her exposed tummy, but it rose up again as soon as she let go of it.

"You look fantastic," I said. Mum looked in the mirror doubtfully.

"I can't go around with all this on show, she said," frowning at the mirror, "Look at the size of my tummy," she said, giving it a good slap.

"It does show it off rather well," I said, "But in any case, no one's going to be looking at your tummy."

"Yes, well, it's not quite what I had in mind," mum said, "I really wanted something for everyday wear, that wouldn't draw attention to me. I'm hardly going to be inconspicuous dressed like this, am I?"

"Well, you could always wear a different top with it," I pointed out, "But you have a really sexy figure," I assured her, "Make the most of it, if you try and hide it you'll just end up looking frumpy."

Mum still looked unconvinced, so I said: "The thing is, the sort of men who like skinny women with model-like figures aren't going to be attracted to you anyway. But those who like a full set of curves, like me, are going to find that outfit irresistible." Mum considered this for a moment before saying: "Well, it's your money."

She shrugged, then went to change back into her dress.

As I paid for the goods at the checkout, I asked if they could cut the labels off. I then handed the clothes back to mum, and asked her to put them on again.

"Really?" mum said.

"I'd like you to get used to wearing them," I explained. "And I really like the look of you in them," I added. "We can go for another drink then, if you like, I'd feel really proud to have such a sexy lady on my arm," I said for further encouragement.

"I think I'll need another drink if I'm going to be parading round in that outfit," mum said, but she took the clothes from me and turned to go back to the changing room.