Chapter 3- Cuddlesome Companions
I didn't know what would happen tonight, especially should mom fall asleep, but I wanted to be ready just in case. So, I slipped into loose green pajama bottoms of soft cotton and pulled on a white t-shirt.
It felt weird knowing I was dressing specifically for the possibility that I might have sex with my mother. It felt really--really weird!
The thought aroused me too, and so, with the addition of the velvety soft caress from my pajamas, I found myself with a quickly growing erection. I tried, in vain though, to arrange my dick so that it hung down the loose leg of my pajamas. It was still very noticeable though, so I tried flipping it up. That was even more noticeable. Well, unless I tied it to my belly using the waistband. It was better as long as I didn't mind the head of my prick sticking out of the top of my pajamas. I tried pulling my t-shirt down to cover over my swollen bulbous indiscretion and sighed.
It would have to do.
I left my room and the restriction on my dick only made it swell larger. Before I knew it, my dickhead was nearly the size of my palm. The whole length of my prick swelled until the head was sticking almost three inches above my waistband, but if I released it now, it would be so hard that it would stand out in front of me like a flagstaff leading the way!
When I reached the living room the first thing I heard was the stereo playing an old Nat King Cole record. The volume was turned down low. The lights were off. One lamp in the corner of the room with a low-wattage light bulb illuminated the room dimly. The couch was already pulled back from its usual spot. The coffee table was moved off to the side of the room. Across from the couch was the cold fireplace. Being August, we needed no fire. In between the couch and the fireplace, spread out on the floor, was a large oversized quilt. It was so thick that it was more of a futon. On top of it were mom's pillows and comforter she had brought from her room.
Just as I walked into the room, mom came in from the kitchen. I froze. She stood there looking at me. Her brown eyes seemed--hot. Not angry. Not annoyed. Not preoccupied. They were sharp. Interested. Hot. Her silver hair, eyebrows, and lashes gave her an almost supernatural beauty with an air of divinity. She looked like a goddess walking among men.
She wore the meagerest of nightgowns. Silver silk trimmed in lace and set with sapphires on her breasts. It seemed to barely cling to her body. It seemed it should fall away with the meagerest breath of air. Somehow, though, it stayed.
Her breasts hung on her chest at proud attention, and a single glance at her nipples had me sighing in relief. I wasn't the only one struggling with erections. The filmy lace and sapphires of her nightgown barely obscured the rosy tint of her nipples as it clung to the generous curves of her ample breasts.
Silver silk caressed her belly, back, hips, and buttocks. Marcelle had chosen a nightgown she had never worn before outside of her own room. Charles had never seen it. She had never intended for him to see it. But now, she wore it--for him!
It was more of a chemise with thin over-the-shoulder straps, a frilly, almost transparent, lace bodice that plunged to expose her cleavage but clung to her breasts and ribs. Beneath them, the silk hugged her ribs tightly before falling down her body, billowing out to cover her hips, and ending just below the cheeks of her bottom.
Mom stood there in her sexy regalia. I stood where I was, stunned by her visage. She had two mugs of hot chocolate. A small smirk turned the edges of her mouth up. She stared at me. I stared at her.
"Hey," I said, more than a bit nervous.
I felt--stunned, nervous, more than a little scared. Almost like the time Madison fell into my lap, then later when I confessed my feelings to her.
"Hi," Marcelle replied, and I could hear it in her voice. Her nervousness. She was scared too.
What were we doing?
This was insane!
"I--um," Mom started to say, then looked down at the cocoa in her hands and said, "thought that maybe tonight we could just have a quiet evening."
"No movie," l asked.
"No," She replied, "I checked. There wasn't anything we haven't already watched. Besides, I just wanted to spend time with you..."
"Okay," I said and crossed the room to her.
I took the mugs of cocoa from her and she smiled in thanks. Turning aside she led the way to the heavy quilt futon and very carefully lowered herself to kneel on its edge. Despite her attempt at modesty, something I found humorous and ultimately in vain since she had purposely worn the tiny nightgown, as soon as she bent to crawl across to where she planned to recline her nightgown slid up and collected at her slim waist completely exposing her hips and ass. Mom wasn't wearing anything. No briefs. No frilly bottoms. No silky thongs. No g-string. Nothing!
She quickly scurried across the futon and then flipped on the mattress while trying to use one hand to pull her nightgown over her hips. Still, I saw a small forest of silver pubic hair decorating her pubic mound, olive pussy-lips, and then she was pushing her hand, and the bottom of her silver chemise between her thighs while crossing one leg over the other.
"Sorry," She said as a furious blush spread across her cheeks, "I went ahead and got ready for bed. I don't like feeling confined--it's hard to explain."
"You don't have to," I said as I met those pools of liquid chocolate of hers, "I know exactly what you mean. Sometimes--I feel exactly the same way."
"Sometimes?" Marcelle said.
I shrugged and gave an embarrassed smile, "All the time really. I thought you knew. I don't wear much when I sleep."
