It was the morning after I'd watched my mother brought to orgasm at the hands of her best friend. I'd been tortured in my dreams by visions of the two of them, doing things to each other, doing things to me. I'd finally given up trying to sleep and began muddling through the day, tired and horny. As I ate my cereal in the kitchen, I saw Donna's purse still on the counter. Immediately all I could think of was the two of them in Mom's bed, naked, bodies intertwined, relaxing after a long night of Sapphic pleasure. Christ, I thought, as I made myself even hornier than before. I finished breakfast and headed to the shower to both relieve myself and wake up.
When I got out, I could hear them in the kitchen and smelled breakfast cooking. I threw on some sweatpants and a t-shirt and left my room, curious to watch how they acted towards one another. Donna was standing at the stove wearing one of my mother's thick robes, stirring up eggs in a skillet, while Mom was pouring some juice. Donna gave me a big smile and said good morning, then asked if I wanted some breakfast. I told her I'd love some and remarked that I didn't realize she was still here, since she wasn't on the couch when I woke up. I saw my mother's face go red out of the corner of my eye and her hand jerked slightly, nearly tipping one of the glasses. Donna just smiled and said that she must have already been in the shower by then. I knew better, but let it drop.
While we ate, I asked questions about how their night went. Clearly Mom wasn't able to give evasive answers, or keep herself from blushing every time I asked another question, so Donna did most of the talking. Her answers were quick and believable enough that you never would have thought that she spent the prior evening getting my mother off. She and I chatted quite amiably while my mother blushed and crossed and uncrossed her legs. When I asked if she was sore and worn out from all the dancing, she nearly choked on her orange juice, and Donna's answer of "well, she was going at it pretty hard last night" didn't help her recover.
A couple of hours later, Donna was leaving. She'd changed back into the prior evening's clothes and walked to the door with my Mom, who was still in her bathrobe. I said goodbye and walked into my room, which was directly across from the front door, swinging my door mostly shut behind me. I immediately turned and looked through the crack, to watch their goodbyes. Any thoughts that I'd dreamt the whole encounter vanished after Mom glanced at my door, then stepped forward into Donna, drawing her into a slow kiss. Donna's right hand vanished, and from the movements of Mom's robe I guessed that it was getting one last caress of my mother's breasts. After they broke the kiss I could hear my mother thank her girlfriend, followed by Donna's assurance that the pleasure was definitely hers. After the door shut, my mother sighed and turned around, unwittingly showing me her exposed left breast before pulling her robe shut as she walked away. I shut my eyes, and renewed my vow from last night to myself. The first elements of the plan started to come together.
A few weeks later, I was ready. A lot of the plan – too much, really, for my taste – was going to have to rely on chance, but I chalked that up to the impossibility of coming up with a foolproof plan to seduce one's mother. It was a Friday night, Mom's dance night, only this time her and Donna were going to have company – me. Earlier in the week I'd expressed to Mom that I got worried about her and Donna drinking and driving, and even though she was pretty good about calling me, I thought it might be a good idea if they were going to be drinking, then I could just come along instead of driving out to wherever they were. She was genuinely excited by the idea; from her reaction, she thought we'd have a lot of fun. She even said getting me drinks wouldn't be a problem. My mother was often more concerned with everyone having a good time rather than dealing with the incongruity of having her designated driver drinking alcohol.
I got dressed up for the occasion, nothing extravagant by any stretch, but fairly formal for me. I left the normal jeans and t-shirt behind for a button-down white shirt and grey pants. I put on my mother's favorite cologne – she'd bought it for me a couple of weeks ago when we were out. I'd asked her opinion on what the best one would be, so she picked the one she liked the most. I'd even gotten a haircut that day, since she always said how much better I looked with short hair. I was nervous and excited, my pulse was pounding, but I was ready. The shame and self-loathing was long gone – I'd left those feelings far behind. Now or never, I said to myself, and with a last glance of the mirror, went out to the kitchen to wait.
There was a small pint bottle of Seagram's 7 on the counter, which apparently was going with me – Mom knew that I liked it and it was small enough to go in a jacket pocket. I could hear that she was still getting ready, so I poured a drink to calm my nerves and give me something to do. I was imagining how the night might go, how I might work anything unusual into the plan, when I heard a wolf whistle from behind me. Mom had come out and saw my look for the evening. She exclaimed over my haircut and ran her fingers in it. I jumped a little at her touch, and barely heard her going on about how nice I looked and how I should dress this way all the time. She paused, and sniffed as she leaned in to me. She gave me an "mmmm" and told me that I'd be popular tonight. With that, she stepped back and asked me how she looked.
I drank in the sight of her, starting at the top of her styled auburn hair. She had heavier makeup on than normal, but still not a lot, just a dark red lipstick, smoky eyes, and a hint of blush. She was wearing her white silk blouse – I'd made sure to tell her I really liked it earlier in the week, that it was very flattering – unbuttoned enough to show a hint of her freckled cleavage. The shirt was tight enough that the last button hiding cleavage was visibly pulled taut. Her shirt was tucked into a new dark red miniskirt that matched her lips and stopped at mid-thigh. Her long legs were in taupe pantyhose and ended in a new pair of dark-red pumps with 4" heels and an ankle strap. How did she look? I couldn't tell her what I wanted to say, that she looked so good I wanted to bend her over the counter and take her right there, or that I could have licked every inch of her. What finally came out was that she looked great, in a sort of hoarse croak. She must have picked up on something in my voice or face, because she looked at me oddly for a moment and smiled. She said that was the reaction she was going for, and that she wanted to turn some heads.
I found my courage, and laughed, and said that if she wanted to turn some more heads then she should make an adjustment. I stepped forward, brought my hands up to her shirt and quickly undid a button, fully exposing her cleavage as well as the edge of her bra – a dark red, matching everything else. She looked surprised as I did so and looked at me briefly, shocked, and then laughed. She stepped past me, swatting me playfully on the rump and calling me a brat. I could tell she was pleased though, and she never bothered to button her shirt. She grabbed a glass and poured some red wine into it, and we chatted for a little while in the kitchen, me sneaking looks at her legs and sipping a drink of my own. A little while and a couple of glasses of wine later, she said it was about time to go get Donna, and turned around to grab the phone. It was on the far side of the counter, and she bent over at the waist to retrieve it. She stayed that way as she talked into the phone, resting on her elbows. The skirt rode up in the back far enough to expose the line of her nylon pantyhose top, and I stared at her, fully aroused. My mind wondered what she would do if I stepped forward and slid my hands up her skirt, gripping her ass, as I had done to her before. She started to hang up the phone and I turned around quickly to hide my noticeable excitement. She announced that she was ready and I replied emphatically that I was ready too.
