Mum's Sexual Re-Awakening Pt. 01

"Oh, one more thing," I said casually, "You could lose the knickers as well, you can see the outline of them through the lycra."

Mum looked at me as though I'd gone mad, and I was sure she was going to refuse, but she just said: "Whatever," and carried on into the changing room.

When she re-emerged, I just had to give her a hug and a kiss. The way that the outfit strained to contain her full curves was mesmerising.

But what I also couldn't help noticing was that as she'd pulled the leggings up in a vain attempt to cover up more of her belly, the thin material had moulded to her pronounced mound of Venus, delineating a magnificent cameltoe, as it was drawn into the crack of her fanny. Without knickers on, the stretchy material also disappeared between her arse cheeks, so that each hemisphere was perfectly outlined. I couldn't resist giving her bottom a resounding smack.

"You look irresistible," I told her.

"Well, I'm glad you think so," mum said, unconvinced.

"I do," I assured her, "And I'm sure I won't be the only one. Come on, let's get another drink inside you."

If mum was feeling self-conscious about her revealing top and exposed belly, it's just as well she probably hadn't realised how obvious her cameltoe now was. In the bright red top mum certainly did stand out from the crowd, in more ways than one, and most of the men that caught sight of her gave her a good second look. Their eyes were irresistibly drawn not only to the bountiful cleavage on view, but also to the unmistakable outline of her nipples. We went into a nearby pub.

"You can get me a large glass of wine this time," mum demanded, "I think I deserve it."

"Sure," I said. (I normally buy mum a standard glass, which is 175 ml, but a large is 250ml, or a third of a bottle.) I chose a table near the middle of the pub, where mum would be on full view. She was uncomfortably aware of this, and in order to gain some more alcoholic confidence, was making short work of the wine.

I couldn't take my eyes off her.

"You really do look amazing in that outfit," I told her.

"I think there's rather too much of me on show," said mum, looking down at herself.

"There could never be too much of you on show," I assured her.

"Well, there's rather too much of this on show," she said, patting her tummy. In a sitting position of course, as any woman will be uncomfortably aware, any excess weight round your middle bulges out even more. I couldn't resist giving it a good squeeze.

"See what I mean?" mum asked.

"I think a curvy tummy looks really sexy," I told her.

"That's a matter of opinion," mum replied.

I had noticed that there was a group of three men, probably in their late thirties, standing at the bar, who kept looking over in mum's direction. I told mum that the men were checking her out, so of course she looked over to them, which prompted one of them to give her a big smile, and nudge his two mates.

"See," I told her, "You're making quite an impression already." Mum gave a little giggle, and involuntarily sat up straighter in her chair, in a vain attempt to flatten her tummy, which gave them an even better view of her chest. As we carried on chatting for a while, mum kept looking over at them. The men were now looking at her more overtly, but as the wine took effect, mum didn't seem to be in the least embarrassed by the appraisal.

When she had finished her drink I asked her if she wanted another one. Mum looked at me in surprise, as I wouldn't normally encourage her to drink so much, and said: "God, I feel drunk already," But after a moments further consideration she added: "Yeah, OK, why not then."

"Let's see if those men will buy you one," I suggested, "Come over to the bar with me."

I stood up and held out my hand to mum. She hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and took my hand, struggling to her feet. The men watched with undisguised interest as mum weaved her way towards them.

"You'll have to excuse mum," I said by way of introduction, "She's been celebrating."

"I have?" mum queried, looking at me in confusion.

"Oh yes," I confirmed, "She's celebrating being single again."

"Well, this calls for a drink," one of them said, "What would you like?"

Mum said she'd have a lager. She looked a bit taken aback when he handed her a pint.

"Is that OK?" he asked her.

"I expect I'll manage," mum replied with a giggle.

They started chatting to mum, though most of their attention was directed at her cleavage, rather than her face, but if mum was aware of this it didn't seem to bother her. I could tell that the man who'd bought her the drink fancied her by the way he was ogling her, and ventured to put his arm around her. But mum was obviously more interested in another of them. He was the best looking of them, and he was giving mum plenty of flannel, saying it was her husband's loss that they'd split up, and he was sure she wouldn't remain single for long. Mum was lapping this up, of course, edging ever closer to him.

"I wish I was single again," he confided.

"Why's that?" mum asked.

"Because then I'd be free to ask you out," he replied.

Mum gave him a look of disbelief, but he said: "Yes, really, you're a very attractive woman."

"You don't think I'm too fat then," mum enquired, patting her tummy.

"Not at all," he assured her, "We don't all like women who look like stick insects."

Mum looked really pleased at this, and her smile made her look even more appealing.

Mum hadn't relieved herself since we'd left her flat, and it was becoming obvious from the way she was starting to fidget that she really needed to pee. But I also suspected that she was enjoying all the attention too much to want to interrupt it by going to the toilet. So she carried on chatting and giggling and drinking, as though nothing was wrong, though I doubt if the men failed to notice her increasingly ineffectual efforts to ignore her full bladder.

On a whim I said to them: "Would you mind looking after mum for a few minutes, I need to make a couple of phone calls." Mum looked at me in bewilderment, but of course the men said they would be only too happy to keep an eye on her.

"Make sure she doesn't drink too much," I added, "We don't want you getting too drunk, do we."

Mum gave me a sulky look, having by now consumed enough alcohol to outweigh her usual caution. The men assured me they would take good care of her.

"I shouldn't be too long," I said, "Then I'm afraid we really must be going."

"Take as long as you like," one of them said, as I turned to leave.

Of course, I didn't actually need to make any calls, but I walked the short distance to where the car was parked and listened to the radio for a while. As it happened, there was quite an interesting programme on, so it was over half an hour before I returned to the pub. As I went in, the four of them were laughing uproariously at something, so it seemed they were getting along as well as I had hoped. I said I was sorry for being so long, but they brushed the apology aside.

"It's been a real pleasure," one of them said, with just the trace of a smirk.

Mum's face was looking flushed and she had a partly full pint glass in her hand, which I was fairly sure wasn't her first. She was squeezing her legs together and showing all the symptoms of an uncomfortably over extended bladder, from time to clutching her lower belly, and I felt sure the men were enjoying the show as much as I was. She was obviously struggling to hold on as she continued to drink her beer, but once the glass was nearly empty, I took the opportunity to say that I was really sorry to break up the party, but we had to be going. Both mum and the men looked disappointed, but they said they had to be getting along as well. Mum gave each of the men a kiss and a hug, before hobbling off to the Ladies.

She came stumbling out again after several minutes, and I put my arm around her to steady her as we made our way back to the car.

She more or less fell into the passenger seat. She belched and patted her tummy. "God, I've had a belly full this afternoon," she said happily.

As we drove back I said: "Well they seemed to enjoy your company."

"They certainly enjoyed staring at my tits," mum said. "Pity that one was married, though, he was very sweet, and I really quite fancied him. I was busting for a pee, though."

"I think that was pretty obvious to all of us," I told her, "But why didn't you go if you needed to so badly?"

"Oh, I don't know, I suppose I didn't like to while they were talking to me," mum replied.

I hesitated, then ventured: "Maybe you're one of these women who enjoy the sensation of a full bladder."

Mum looked at me. "You won't laugh if I tell you something," she said, a little uncertainly.

"You can tell me anything," I said to her, "You know that."

"Well," she began, "It did feel rather naughty, and quite thrilling in a funny kind of way, chatting and joking as though nothing was wrong, whilst all the time I could feel my bladder was getting fuller and fuller. I decided I'd wait until you came back, but of course I wasn't sure how long you were going to be, and the uncertainty actually made it even more exciting. Does that sound strange?" she enquired, after a pause.

"Whatever turns you on," I replied.

This was undoubtedly an intriguing revelation, which I pondered in silence as I drove back to mum's flat. It was definitely something that would be worth exploring further, if mum was up for it. And with the quantity she was evidently able to drink, it shouldn't be too difficult to engineer.

When we got back to her flat we sat together on the sofa as usual and switched the telly on, though neither of us was paying it much attention. Mum snuggled up to me even closer than usual.

"This feels so nice and cosy," mum said, with a sigh of contentment, "You're a really good son to me, and a good friend. You always manage to make me feel as though I must still have something about me, the way you seem to like showing me off. In fact, you actually make me feel sexy again, at least when I've had too much to drink."

She looked straight at me, saying: "Do you really think your mum looks sexy dressed like this, with all this extra weight I'm carrying?"

"I think you look all the more sexy because of the weight you've put on," I replied.

Mum looked at me strangely, and said: "At times like this I keep wishing you were my boyfriend, rather than my son." I wasn't at all sure how to respond to this, so I just gave her a kiss on her cheek, and mum closed her eyes. I think all the wine had made her say more than she would admit to when sober, but the possibility that she might feel the same way about me as I felt about her set my heart racing. Though I'm ashamed to admit it, I found myself having to try and hide a huge erection.

I think mum must have dozed off, but after a while she woke up with a start, saying she needed to go to the toilet. When she came back I told her that I would soon need to be going.

"Is it time already?" mum said, "It's so nice having company, I do look forward to your visits, you always manage to make me feel so much better."

I couldn't help thinking that it was the alcohol rather than me that was mainly responsible for that, but I said that I was really pleased if she was starting to feel more comfortable about the way she looked.

"I wish you were able to stay for longer," mum said, "It seems a shame to drive all that way just for a few hours."

Was she asking me to stay for the weekend, I wondered. I promised her I would get over again as soon as I could manage.

(to be continued)