It was a peaceful Friday night. My mother had offered to take my baby, Layla, for the weekend. I had been producing enough milk to pack up and last her the next couple days and although it was hard to be away from her, I needed a break.
"What's Stephen going to do all weekend? Are you letting him stay with a friend so you can be alone?" My mother asked, referring to my 19-year-old son who, unbeknownst to my mother, I was sleeping with.
"No Stephen won't bother me a bit. In fact, I have plans with him."
***
I arrived home promptly at 6pm and began making dinner. I knew Stephen was in a study group and wouldn't be home for another hour or so.
I decided to cook some beef stew with rice, gravy, and sides of carrots, green beans, and bread rolls. It wasn't the most romantic dinner, but it was what I was craving.
Speaking on cravings, about 10 minutes before Stephen arrived home, I put on his favorite piece of lingerie I owned. It was a little black bustier that pushed my breasts up and accentuated my curves. Underneath it was a lacy black thong. I also wore black lacy thigh highs and heels with it to complete the look. I looked great. My breasts were practically spilling out of the top of it, and it shaped me to where I felt like I had lost all my baby weight. My only concern was making sure I didn't start leaking on the fabric. I doubted I would keep it on too long, but it was still a concern.
I was filling our glasses with wine when I heard him pull up. I waited for him to put his stuff up as I lit a few candles and finished setting the table.
Stephen entered the dining room. "Hey mo- whoa..."
I blushed.
"Wow mom, you look amazing!"
I smiled. "Oh Stephen, stop it,"
"No seriously mom, you're so much hotter than all the girls at school. Honest. You're beautiful." He leaned down and gave me a kiss on the lips, lighting touching my ass before taking his seat at the table.
"Wine?" He asked quizzically.
"What's wrong with a little bit of wine?"
"I'm not 21,"
"You're fucking your mother and you're worried about the wine?"
We both laughed. We talked about our days as we ate dinner and it almost felt like we were a real couple, just man and wife. As I watched him at the table, I was starting to realize my feelings for my son were deeper than motherly love and the intimacy we had been sharing lately. I was falling in love with him.
I finished my food as I tried to put that thought out of my mind. It was wrong, wasn't it? What happens when he meets someone? When he wants to get married? When he decides to have kids? Those thoughts enraged me and fueled me with something I hadn't felt in a long time: jealousy. I shook the thoughts from my head and tried to focus on the present. He's mine right now, I thought. That's all that matters.
Because I was still lactating, I stopped drinking after my first glass of wine. Stephen had two by the time we had finished eating.
I went to stand up to take our dishes away when I could feel something wet in my bustier. "Oh no," I said. "I think I'm leaking."
"Let me see,"
I lifted one of my tits from the garment to feel the material. It was wet. "Dammit,"
"It's okay. I didn't plan on you wearing that after dinner anyway. Here. Let me help you take it off."
He worked with me to remove my bustier. I was naked from the waist up and rocking a thong, thigh highs, and heels now.
"Wow mom," he said. "No offense but you make a good slut."