My Mom is a Hot Mom Ch. 07

"I know, mom," I said. My eyes ran up and down her nude, succulent body. "We have to be careful. But we can still have some fun. You know, I've got three friends coming over for the football game soon."

"Randy," mom said. "I am not going to get naked for your friends. If Tucker saw me that way everyone in the neighborhood would know before sunset. I can't allow that. I have a job and a reputation to keep."

"Mom, I know that," I said. "You're right about Tucker. You have to watch yourself around him. He's my best friend but he's not very discreet. He can't keep a secret at all. But that doesn't mean we can't have some fun today. We can. And I think you'll like it."

"What do you have in mind?" she asked. Her eyebrows arched high.

"I want you to put on a little show, mom," I said. "Within limits. Not so Tucker will go flapping his lips to everybody. You won't scandalize the neighbors. But I want to push you, mom. I know you like showing off and I want you to do that, this afternoon."

"Randy," mom said, "What in the world do you have in mind?"

I fished a crumpled piece of paper out of my pocket. I held it out to her, and after a moment or two of looking at it, she took it.

"What's this?" she asked.

"I wrote down what I want you to wear today, when my friends are over, during the football game."

Mom took the piece of paper and un-crumpled it. She looked at it and her mouth twisted. Then she looked up from the paper and back at me.

"What kind of son are you?" she asked.

"I'm the kind of son a mom like you wants to have," I said, my mouth turned up in a knowing smile. "Go ahead. Get showered and wear what I've written down. We'll have fun, but we won't cross any boundaries you don't want to cross."

At that, my naked mom took the slip of paper, clasped it in her hand, pivoted, and walked away from me toward her bedroom.

The day had gotten off to an interesting start, but I was certain it was going to get a lot more interesting.

Two hours later, the doorbell rang, and I let my friends, Alex, Mason, and Tucker, in the house. The game was about to start, so they quickly staked out their places on the chairs and sofa in the living room in front of the large screen television. I knew a thing or two about their appetites, so the coffee table in front of them was covered in bowls of chips and dip. I heard Tucker start boasting about the success of his fantasy team as I went to the kitchen to get some drinks. That started a loud but friendly argument over whose fantasy quarterback sucked the most.

The kitchen was divided from the living room by a floor to ceiling wall with a large space cut out to allow one to pass food and drinks across a counter from the kitchen to the living room. Three barstools perched at the edge. As you looked toward the kitchen from the living room you could see part of the kitchen behind the cut out in the wall, and to the right was the open dining room. The television was perched on the wall opposite the kitchen, so we could watch TV while making lunch in the kitchen. On the left side, the kitchen opened into the hallway toward the bedrooms, and on the right, it opened to the dining room.

It was a spacious kitchen. My parents had updated it before the divorce. In the middle of it stood an island counter, waist-high, on which I'd placed the bread, sandwich meat, and condiments mom and I were going to use to make sandwiches during the game. I hadn't seen mom for about an hour, but I expected her to appear any moment to help me.

I opened the refrigerator and started pulling some drinks out.

"Hey Randy," Mason called. I looked up and he was turned around in the sofa, looking at me. "Where's your mom?"

My friends never changed. They always wanted to see my hot mom. But I had changed. In the past, it would have embarrassed me. But not now. This time, I was fully aware of how hot my mom was, and I wanted them to see her in all her hotness. Well, maybe not all of her hotness. But some of it.

"She's around," I said. "She's going to help me with lunch, so she should be out soon."

"Excellent," he said, turning back to the game. The game started, and the visiting team kicked off.

Just then I heard the clack of heels on the floor. I looked up and mom stood in the doorway between the kitchen and hallway. Her hands rested on either side of the door frame.

She looked stunning. The first thing I noticed was the blue denim miniskirt. I hadn't seen her wear it in a long time, and it was even shorter than I had remembered it. It hit high on her thigh, and its brevity accentuated the length and exquisite tone of mom's legs, which seemed to go on forever until they ended at 4-inch strappy white and cork wedge heels. On top she wore a tight-fitting white tank top with a built-in shelf bra (I knew, because I'd checked it out earlier when preparing my list of what I wanted mom to wear). The bra provided enough support to keep mom from flopping around, but it was thin enough that I could see the faint outline of her nipples.

Mom had spent some time with her hair and face as well. Her hair lay in thick blond waves around her lovely face. She wore more makeup than normal for a Sunday afternoon, but not too much; it added a hint of extra glamour to her fresh-scrubbed, sporty beauty. She looked exactly as I'd wanted her to: adorable, and sexy, but not trashy. She could tease without being too obvious about it. That's what I wanted.

I pointed to the bottom of her skirt and mouthed the words, "Let me see."

She knew what I wanted. First, she looked to the side to see if anyone could see her. It was an unnecessary glance because my friends couldn't see mom from where they sat in the living room. She reached down slowly pulled the bottom hem of her skirt. I nodded to indicate she should keep pulling. She did, until the tiny, filmy, powder blue thong panties were fully exposed. They weren't fully see-through, but they were see-through enough that I could just make out mom's delicious slit through the fabric. Anyone with a good view up mom's skirt would see more than just panties, but not so much more that it would be obvious she wanted them to see it.

I nodded, and she pulled the skirt down. The look was perfect. We were ready to go.

I pointed to the drinks I'd put on a tray on the island.

"Mom," I asked, "Can you take these out to the living room?"

"Sure, Randy," she said with a knowing smirk. She picked up the tray and walked out the other end of the kitchen, through the dining room and into the living room, announcing her presence to my friends with the sound of her heels and a bouncy and flirty voice.

"Hi, boys!" she said. "Want some refreshments?"

All three of their heads swiveled around, the game instantly forgotten. From the kitchen cutout I could see their faces, and I could see mom from behind. Mom obviously made an impression, because none of them said anything for a few seconds, and Tucker's and Mason's mouths opened. Flies could have flown in and they wouldn't have noticed.

"Sure, Ms. Lund," Tucker said, at last, with a slight stammer. "Thanks a lot!"

"Now, Tucker," she said, "You know you can call me Inga. You're all adults now."

"O.K., uh, Inga," Tucker said, his eyes still wide and obviously sweeping over her body. Mom walked around the sofa to the coffee table, giving my friends an impressive view of her legs moving under the tiny skirt. She knelt with her knees bent and together to set the tray on the table, but it was impossible to prevent the skirt from riding up her thighs as she did so, and I could tell from the way my friends craned their heads around that they were trying to get as good a view as they could. Mom acted oblivious to their attention, but I knew that she knew exactly what they were doing.

I felt a twinge of guilt. I'd orchestrated putting my hot mom on display for my three horny, best friends. I thought about what I was doing. I shouldn't have done that, should I? But I had done it, and mom had gone along. I'd set things in motion, but it was mom's show now. She wouldn't have worn the miniskirt and tank top if she hadn't wanted to put on the show. It was too late for me to worry about the ethics of what I'd done. I just needed to sit back and enjoy the show. The twinge of guilt passed.

Mom moved the drinks from the tray to the table. My friends' focus on her hadn't waivered. Each of them ogled her in a different way. Mason, who was always eager to please, sat closest to her, and he was bent over, helping her unload the drinks, but I could tell he was trying to look up her skirt as she was crouched. Alex, the coolest of the three, sat farthest away, and he feigned watching the game while looking at mom out of his side vision. Tucker, never concerned about looking or acting appropriately, just sat slack-jawed and stared at her boobs.

After taking longer than necessary to set the drinks on the table, mom stood up as primly as she could in the little skirt, turned on her heels, and came back to the kitchen. From the kitchen I noticed their eyes tracking her round, skirt-covered butt.

Mom smirked at me as she rounded the corner from the dining room into the kitchen.

"Did you like that?" she asked me, quietly.

"Not as much as you did," I think.

"You're bad," she said, and she lightly cuffed my chest with her hand.

I took a break from the kitchen to watch the game in the living room for a while. Mom stayed in the kitchen, working on some sort of savory little turnovers she was going to serve as an appetizer before lunch. The game was close, but my mind was on mom and what she was going to do next.

She appeared again early in the second quarter. She carried a small tray with the turnovers and napkins. Alex, Mason, and Tucker heard her heels against the floor, and their heads swiveled in unison to watch her approach. As she entered the living room, a napkin fluttered off the tray, to the floor. Without hesitating, and with startling grace for someone perched on four-inch heels, mom crouched down to the floor, balanced the tray on one hand, and scooped up the napkin with the other.

She didn't hold the position long, but she held it long enough, and with her knees held far enough apart, that all of us got a good look at the power blue panties under her skirt. I hoped to catch a glimpse of her sex under the blue fabric, and I did, just barely. I wondered if my friends had. I turned from my mom to look at them, and I guessed that they had, from the looks of astonishment on their faces.

Mom stood up, set the turnovers on the table, and walked back to the kitchen. I could have sworn her ass swished as she did. My hot mom, I thought. Wow.

Since it was getting close to half time, I decided to get up and get to work on making lunch.

I walked into the kitchen to see my mom standing next to the island over a head of lettuce, looking lean and luscious. Our eyes met, and I could tell she was thinking the same thing I was: what next? Where would we go with this craziness? I didn't want to go too far, and she didn't either. I didn't want to do something that might get her in trouble with her job or with her friends or reputation, which was, as far as I knew, spotless. But I wanted to push her. I wanted, somehow and someway without pushing too far, to explore the limits of my mom's desire to show off her hotness.

I walked up to her and put my hand on her ass and squeezed it through the denim skirt. Both of us stood on the opposite side of the island from where my friends sat. They were looking away, toward the football game on the television, but if they'd turned around they would have seen us only from the waist up, with the rest of us hidden behind the counter cutout and the island. I could squeeze my mom's ass as much as I liked, and my friends wouldn't see it.

I felt resistance against my hand; mom was pushing her ass back against my fingers. I looked at her face and her eyes were closed.

I pulled her skirt up, over and above her butt. Her cheeks were bare and exposed to me and I ran my hand across her bare skin. The thong back of her panties covered almost nothing. What purpose do they serve? I wondered. On an impulse I hooked my fingers around them and pulled down. Mom didn't resist. She stood there with her eyes closed and let me draw her thong down her legs until it was bunched at her ankles on the floor. She opened them to look at the lacy garment at her feet. She kicked it to the side.

"You're being naughty," she whispered, so my friends couldn't hear.

"And you didn't stop me," I said right back. I squeezed the bare cheek of her ass again. I felt the pressure of her ass pushing back against my hand. No, she wasn't going to stop me.

"I suppose you're not going to let me put the panties back on?" Mom asked me.

"Nope," I said, reaching down, scooping them up, and stuffing them in my pocket. "It's commando for you."

"That's not going to be easy in this skirt," she said.

"Easy wouldn't be any fun," I replied. "You'll have to do your best. It looks like the guys need some more chips." I poured a bagful into a big orange bowl and pushed it across the island counter toward mom.

"Why don't you take this out there to them," I said. "Be careful!" I said, and I smirked at her.

Mom took the bowl from my hands, pivoted on her wedge heels, and walked out of the kitchen. Her ass swayed as she went. I looked through the wall cutout to watch her deliver the chips. The game was on and the sound on the TV was turned up high, so my friends didn't notice her at first, but all three of them noticed he as she got near them. She bent over at the waist to set the chips on the table, keeping her legs straight. The skirt rode up and up, and I wondered for a second if she'd expose herself to my friends, but the hem of the skirt stopped rising no more than half an inch before it exposed her lack of panties. Even so, I could tell my friends were held rapt by the sight of her. Tucker, especially, looked at mom with his mouth wide. Mom pretended not to notice. She unbent herself, stood up, pivoted again, and walked back slowly to the kitchen. My friends looked after her for a few seconds and then turned back to the game.

Mom didn't come back to the kitchen right away. She stopped next to the dining room table, in a spot where she knew I could see her from the kitchen and my friends could have seen her from the living room, if their attention hadn't been focused on the game. Mom gave me a quick, wicked smile. I couldn't believe what she did next.

A set of extra napkins lay on edge of the table, and mom swept her hand over them and pushed them off. They spilled on the floor. Mom put her finger to her mouth and looked at me with feigned innocence. Then she crouched down to pick up the napkins. She squatted, right over her heels, with her knees wider than necessary. The skirt rode up -- all the way up. I could see everything, clearly. And my friends in the living room could have, as well, if they hadn't been looking the other way. Tucker, I knew, would have given his left nut to see what mom was showing: her bare pussy, under the little denim skirt.

Mom took her time gathering the napkins on the floor. She held the squat with her legs open the whole time. I admired her balance and leg muscles. I also admired the sweetness of her sex exposed to my eye, between her legs, thin lips dangling barely but noticeably at the junction of her thighs.

Finally, the napkins collected in her hand, mom stood up, her gaze on me as she did so. She set the napkins back on the table and then walked toward me in the kitchen. For about thirty seconds, mom had held herself in a position that completely exposed herself to my friends. But they didn't know what they'd missed. Their attention remained on the game.

Mom approached me in the kitchen and arched her eyebrows, with a twisted smile lighting up her face. I didn't know what to say.

"I guess we better make lunch," she said.

I nodded, having nothing better to say just then. Distracted and horny, I pulled some greens and other vegetables out of the refrigerator to make a salad.

Even without turning around to look at mom, I felt her presence near me. I heard cabinet doors open and I knew mom was pulling out plates on which to put the salad. From head to toe my body felt the heat radiating from mom's body near mine.

I set the vegetables for the salad on the island at the same time mom set the plates on it. I turned and looked at her, up and down. The skirt was short, and her legs looked supple and enticing under it. On an impulse, I put my hands on her waist, and I picked her up.

I had never picked up mom before like that. Maybe I was stronger than I had expected, or maybe mom was lighter than I had guessed, but she was easy to lift, and I set her on the counter to the side of the opening in the wall to the living room. Where she sat, mom was just out of sight of my friends in the living room focused on and yelling about the football game.

She didn't say anything. Her legs, lean and exposed in the little denim skirt, dangled from the counter. I put a hand on each warm, firm thigh. Mom gazed steadily at me as my hands moved up the dry but silky skin of her legs. As my hands moved up they pushed against the hem of the denim skirt. Soon the skirt was pushed back far enough to reveal mom's bare pussy.

A cheer came from the living room. My friends had called out in unison, presumably because our team had scored. I heard the voices of announcers coming from the television, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. I couldn't pay attention to them. I could pay attention only to my mom on the counter, the little skirt bunched up around her hips and her sex on display. And her eyes. They kept staring at me. I tried reading them. I wanted to know what she was thinking. Was she nervous? Was she horny? Was she doing this to please me, or to please herself? I didn't know.

What I knew was what I could see, and I could see the emerald pools of mom's wide-open eyes staring at me, barely blinking, while her splayed legs showed off her most intimate body parts under the pushed-up skirt. Her knees went up, giving me an even better view.

My friends had no idea what was going on. They sat not more than 20 feet away, yelling at the TV screen and the game, but if they'd known what my mom was doing it was would have driven them crazy. Especially Tucker. But he had no idea.

I put my hands between mom's legs, fingers under her thighs, and I pressed up. She lifted her legs without resistance, until her knees were up high and her heels were on the edge of the counter. Then I pushed her legs farther apart. I had to be careful, because if I pushed her right knee to far to the side it might become visible to my friends, were they to turn their attention away from the TV and toward the kitchen.

Mom passively took the direction of my hands and let me spread her wide. She smiled at me.

"You like what you see?" she asked in a whisper so as not to be heard over the din of the football game.

I squeezed mom's thighs gently and savored the touch of her silky skin, and the view of her legs stretched taut to either side of her. Mom leaned back against the cupboard over the counter, and she scooted her butt forward a few inches. She wanted to show her pussy as much as I wanted to see it. And I could see it all; the delicate lips parted and revealed a glimpse of mom's delicious pink wetness. The cute star of her asshole was in view directly beneath it. We were both excited, and it was getting more difficult to focus on the fact that three of my friends sat nearby, waiting for lunch and oblivious to my hot mom's lewd display.

They would have to wait for a few more minutes. I had an idea. On the counter I had put vegetables to make a salad. A thick carrot, already washed and peeled, lay next to a head of green lettuce. I picked it up and held it in front of mom's face and smiled as lewdly as I could at her. Her eyes went wide, and her head inclined to the side as though she were about to shake her head. But I nodded at her, and it seemed to stop her. She waited for me.