Hello kiddies this is your Closet Keeper with yet another delicious and naughty tale from a bit of sexy drama that started in . . . you guessed it, the closet.
Jimmy, turned eighteen on October 5, 1999, and for his birthday his mom, Ellen Grant, wanting to give him something a bit different and unexpected, gifted him a cute, four month old midnight black kitten they named Boxer. Just six months earlier, the beloved family cat at age of fifteen finally passed away. Ellen knew Jimmy, like herself, really missed the cat so she thought a gift of a new kitten would really a nice gesture.
One day, roughly a month later, Jimmy was home alone on a lazy Friday afternoon after school. Ellen was at work, she was a vice-principal at one of the local high schools, the same one Jimmy attended, and being a bit bored, Jimmy decided a game of charge and chase with the kitten might be fun.
Charge and chase was a game he invented to play with the extremely playful kitten. As the name implied, he would go running, or charging at Boxer, causing him to flee the other way, but then, after a few feet, he would stop chasing the kitten and suddenly turn and run the opposite way. In response, Boxer would turn around and chase after him.
Today, he decided to add a twist to the game. After charging at Boxer, making him flee the other way, Jimmy would turn quickly and go hide. He simply wanted to test the cat and see if he was smart enough to track him down.
His plan worked perfectly. Almost. After charging at the cat in the upstairs hallway, Jimmy turned and scampered into the first open doorway, his mom's bedroom as it happened, and then into her closet.
Crouching down low in one of the dark corners, he waited to see if Boxer would track him down.
As Jimmy was busy hiding himself deep in her closet Ellen, after leaving the school early because of a bad headache, was just letting herself into the house. With Jimmy already settled in place and hiding in her closet, the house was quiet as she headed upstairs to her room.
Upon hearing Ellen come into the house, the alert kitty went to the top of the stairs and was waiting to greet her. Ellen looked at Boxer and quietly whispered, "Listen little kitty, I am tired and in no mood to play so . . ."
Scooping him up, she took him about half way down the stairs before setting him down in the middle of the steps where one of his favorite toys just happened to be laying—a colorful little catnip filled cloth ball. She kicked the ball down the stairs and Boxer immediately gave chase, allowing Ellen to escape up the stairs to her room.
Jimmy smiled to himself. He was winning this game of hide and seek as the kitty had yet to track him down. He was just starting to rise to his feet when he heard a noise out in his mom's bedroom. The noise, ominously, was Ellen dropping her keys and purse on the nightstand next to her bed.
Sighing, Ellen plopped down on the bed and started to unbuckle her sandals with their two inch heels. After getting them off she stood up, facing the closet and started to remove her professional dark checkered suit jacket—just as Jimmy reached the front of the closet and was peering out.
He froze for a moment. It was barely past three and his mom was already home? She usually didn't get home until well after five or later.
He was just reaching for the closet door, meaning to push it open and greet her when he suddenly stopped.
If he came out of her closet now, might she be upset, thinking he had been snooping around in there. The explanation of playing charge and chase with the cat seemed lame at best.
He peered out of the closet, watching her, undecided as to what to do. She tossed the dark suit jacket on the bed, revealing a pretty crème colored blouse underneath which she promptly started to unbutton—as he stood silently staring out at her.
At this point, he knew the right thing to do: loudly exit the closet. Sure his mother's initial reaction would be a combination of surprise and embarrassment, after all she was getting undressed, but if he explained how he had been playing with Boxer maybe she would understand. Maybe.
On the other hand, if he stayed real quiet . . . maybe a chance to escape from her closet quietly would present itself. This seemed like the plan of least resistance, with the added bonus of not having to explain why he was hiding in her closet.
He started to turn away, meaning to retreat to the back of the closet, but before he turned away completely his mom inadvertently turned his way, allowing him to get a partial glimpse of the pretty purple bra she was wearing under her half unbuttoned blouse. Purple, fortuitously, just happened to be his favorite color.
He froze. From where he stood, and with the way the closet door was opened, his angle gave him an excellent view of things.
Knowing it was wrong, but simply unable to help himself, Jimmy quietly observed as his mom patiently started undoing the last of the buttons on her blouse.
He held his breath, saying a quick prayer to the Dark Gods--no decent Gods would dare honor what he was about to ask.
"Please, please don't move away . . . don't go into your bathroom," he whispered under his breath. "Stay right there . . . and take your fucking blouse off."
His prayers were answered when Ellen, standing next to her bed, lost in thought, undid the final two buttons on her blouse before pulling it out from her skirt. She paused, and then slowly—as if she was stripping just for him—took her blouse off.
Jimmy felt his cock jerk inside his jeans. The purple bra looked absolutely dreamy on his pretty mother, who, unlike a lot of mothers her age, was in damn decent shape.
Ellen stood just over five feet tall and weighed a fit hundred and seven pounds. She was both pretty and petite, not to mention sweet as pie. At the age of forty-two her appealing face hardly showed any lines to mar her distinctive Filipino beauty. Her lovely black hair fell to her shoulders making it, in Jimmy's eyes, one of her most appealing features.
Her hot looks were accented by a loving and warm personality, including a smile so inviting, so magnetic, so sly and alluring that she was indeed the stuff of wet dreams for many of the older boys at Eastgate High.
All in all, Jimmie thought very highly of his mother believing she was a stunning beauty who was only was growing finer with age. In the dark of night, alone in his bed, he often wondered what she looked like - naked. Such thoughts brought him shame, along with a powerful erection.
He stared out of the closet, his mouth watering, his cock growing firm as his eyes traveled over her flat abs and on up to her sexy bra. Then his attention was drawn downward as she casually begin to work on the zipper of her dark skirt.
He closed his eyes at this point, searching for the willpower to back away from the door. He actually managed to take one small step backwards before a small voice in his head snapped at him. Stop being such a pussy. Go on, take one more look!
The small voice shamed him into continuing to watch as he reasoned: what harm could there be in taking one more quick look?
He opened his eyes just in time to see his mom, her back was to the closet, wriggle out of her skirt.
Once he got a glimpse of the black thong she was wearing under her conservative skirt not looking anymore was a hopeless endeavor. Nor could he tear his eyes away as she turned back around to face him again. Her hands dropped to the front of her bra. Jesus she was going to take it off!
Again, she seemed lost in thought as she fiddled with the bra's front closure clasp.
Trapped by his obsession to see his mother's bare breasts revealed to him, Jimmy simply couldn't look away.
Then disaster struck. He carelessly shifted his weight while pushing the closet door open just ever so slightly. Both the floor, and especially the door, creaked loudly in the silent house.
Ellen stopped undoing her bra. Jolted out of her day dreaming, she looked up, staring directly at the closet. The door was ajar and someone was in there! She knew it, could feel it as sure as she knew her name. Mainly because she always made it a habit to keep her closet door shut tightly. It went back to her childhood fear of the The Thing in the Closet which she still possessed to a certain degree.
In a scene that could be taken from countless horror movies Ellen called out, "Who is there?"
Jimmy froze, his mind whirling as to what to do.
She repeated the question, louder this time, as her fear began to dissipate. She knew who was there: it was Jimmy. It had to be which would explain why she didn't see him when she got home.
She called out louder this time, "I said who is in my closet . . . Jimmy is that you?"
