This story is about my Stepmother. She brought me up from a very young age, hence I always called and thought of her as Mum. This happened some years ago, when I was only about 18, young and naive, and had never seen sex, except for some in dirty books from mates.
This was what made me realise her secret rude side existed for sure, because at this time I'd only heard about a supposed sex video she'd made, from unreliable sources.
I only suspected she might be unfaithful to Dad sometimes, not having seen anything myself to confirm it. Therefore all I had were my fantasies at this point, which I secretly enjoyed, but I still knew I'd be horrified if I ever discovered she'd had someone else than Dad in reality.
Mum used to see a certain optician, Mr. Miller, in his shop up the road. I'd never liked him at all, having been there a couple of times in the past when we'd been for our eye tests, and I didn't like his attitude. He was self important, pompous and patronising to both of us, and I guessed he fancied my Mum. The way he would fuss around her, touching her unnessecarily, made me squirm. Plus when the lights were dimmed for her tests, Mum would slip off her shoes as she sat in the chair, relaxing and rubbing a stockinged foot up her other leg suggestively.
She would laugh at his jokes and innuendo to her during the tests, even once giggling when his hand slipped from her shoulder and closed over her right breast through her top, before he moved to the light switch again! I'm sure I saw that happen, there in the dark!
He was a very big man, professorish but powerful too, and I felt that somehow Mum was attracted to him.
At one point in time when Dad was away abroad, he wasn't sending any money home to us, as he'd gotten into a bad situation, and Mum needed her expensive spectacles replacing. I happened to be with her after shopping when she next saw her optician, so I was there when we sat before him at his desk in the office.
Mum acted up to him, to try and get them for free, or at least so he would delay the need to pay till next time.
He hummed and pontificated, lecturing her about it. This guy really was a self righteous bastard, and I was irked to see my Mum accepting his telling off.
When she kicked off her shoes and made very flirty body language to him, I felt hurt and uncomfortable. My annoyance was building up, and I felt a knot in my stomach.
Mum then told me to go and wait in the reception area, as they had to discuss business, as she put it.
I noticed as I left that they left his office by another door. I glimpsed inside as it opened. It was a little poky storeroom, with a high metal couch, cushioned in black rubber.
As it was near closing time with our appointment being the last, his assistant, a weighty black woman, was alone in the reception area, where I waited.
I sat nervous, pretending to be engrossed in a magazine. Soon I saw the woman turn the volume down on the intercom and switch it on. She eyed me to check I wasn't listening, then put her ear down to the speaker, turning the sound slightly up.
Just audibly, I heard sounds from it.
I recognised the optician's voice mumbling something and sounding very smug, along with Mum's voice going, "Hugh! Ough! Ourrgh!"
At first, I was sure she must have been just laughing out loud at some joke of his. Then, I doubted that.
What was he actually doing to my Mum, in there?
The black woman smiled as she heard these sounds, then switched the intercom off after looking over at me and smirking in a manner I found uncomfortable.
Mum emerged maybe half an hour later, looking quite happy and normal. I assumed this couldn't have been what I thought it was.
Mr. Miller said she'd better bring the money this time next week, or she'd have to pay extra for the delay. Mum promised, sounding dubious about the extra, but having to accept it.
Mz. B, his assistant, let us out, reiterating to Mum about the extra next week. She blew a loud raspberry at Mum after repeating that word, and to my surprise my Mum blushed very red at that! Mum denied to me that the woman meant anything by it.
I couldn't help it, I drew scenes of Mum bonking the optician that night, and wanked with them. Masochistic feelings of both hate for him and lust for the sleazy idea of him taking advantage of my Mum overcame me. I drew pics of him having her in the test chair, etc.
I suspected she found them during the week, as she'd cleaned my room while I was out one day, and they'd been moved about!
Well next week came, and Dad still hadn't sent the money. We were due to go and explain, after a bit of shopping. I noticed Mum always seemed to dress more tartily and provocatively than usual on visits to the optician.
Today she wore a flimsy white blouse that you could see her black lacy bra clearly through, a pair of black tights that had thick tarty seams all up the backs of her legs, the highest heels I'd ever seen her wear, plus a tiny black stretch mini skirt. This was so small you could see the tops of her legs where they joined into her buttocks!
Her hair was newly permed and peroxided blonde too, and she put on lots of make up to finish her raunchy strumpet look.
She hardly looked at all like my respectable, churchgoing Mum!
I felt so embarrassed walking up the shopping centre with her. Men were making comments as she passed, saying things like, "Corr! I'd love to get up that!"
Everyone was staring at her, and their eyes were lingering on her bum, which was like two eggs in a wet cloth!
She seemed to ignore them, yet she also smirked as I blushed angrily red and glared at the blokes, and she told me not to stare at the nice men!
Mr. Miller's receptionist was again the only one there now, as she'd seen off the previous customer. She smiled nastily on our arrival, and asked if Mum and I had the payment today.
When told we didn't, the negress smirked at Mum and said, "Well now, honey, I hope you are ready to have to pay our exxxtra!"
She sounded that last word lasciviously, drawing it out and widening her eyes mockingly, as if it meant something totally different and more lewd. If it did, Mr. Miller must have told her, and they'd obviously laughed at us about it!
As we sat before Mr. Miller again, he told us off once more, lecturing my Mum and saying, "Do you understand what this means, Teresa? I'm adding on the extra!"
Mum looked sheepishly up at him from under her curls and replied quietly, "Yes, Mr. Miller. I'm sorry. We'll have to come to an arrangement!"
He waved his pen at her, very pompously. He always had this oversized metal pen, a big long thing that he used to sign things with. As they got up to go into the side room, he took it with him.
Mum let me stay in his office this time, saying, "Don't worry, love, I've just got to try and get round Mr. Miller about the bill. You stay here, it'll be okay."
She slipped of her shoes and left them with me along with the bags, telling me to look after them.
I still recall the smell of her perfume and the slight musky scent of her feet, as she popped off her warm footwear, and the way she pulled and straightened the nylon from it's ruffled place between her toes. The sense of worry combined with sexual titillation as she kissed my cheek still moves me to this day.
Her crimson wet lips awoke my desire, before she pulled away, leaving me with a lurching stomach and sense of doom as she allowed Mr. Miller to lead her away.
