I suppose it started with my thirty-ninth Birthday. But firstly I had better give some background information.
My husband and I separated some seven years ago, and as he now works overseas I have rarely even been in contact with him since.
Owen, my son, and his twin sister, Chloe, have recently turned eighteen and will both be going to Teacher Training College in September, so they are still at school at present, as is Owen's girl-friend, although there seems nothing serious there as yet -- they simply go out together when it suits them both, and it is expected to fizzle out when he goes to University. They simply seem to be no more than just good friends I suppose. Chloe, on the other hand, seems to be a little more serious, and she and her boy-friend, Damian, have been going out together steadily for a few months.
Owen is a big strapping lad of six feet and around 154lbs or so, so he is slim and obviously very fit. He also plays rugby, so you can see he is no weakling. Chloe, on the other hand, is of slim build, about 5ft.6inches tall, with a firm bust, and likes wearing the shortest of skirts whenever she goes out, and for some reason has an aversion to wearing jeans.
Anyway, for my birthday Chloe had bought me a lovely brooch, but Owen, with a twinkle in his eye, handed me a small parcel. When I opened it (and both children were present at the time) I drew out the tiniest g-string I had even seen. It was simply a triangular scrap of nylon, about six inches long, and held in place by thin elastics no thicker than a shoelace. Accompanying it was what was supposed to be a bra, but, like the g-string, would show more than it hid, inasmuch as it consisted of two miniscule triangles which would only just cover the nipples, and the rest, like to g-string, was only composed of shearing elastic.
They both seemed amused as they watched for my reaction on opening this gift, so I decided to counter their amusement by saying, "And I suppose you will both want to see me when I am wearing these!"
Owen did not blush, but seemed on the verge of doing so, and then he plucked up enough courage to say, "Please!"
I have always been very open with my two children, and they have always been so with me, but in any case I had been starved of sexual affection since my husband left me, and to a certain extent what I was suggesting would give me a small thrill, as well as them, particularly Owen, I presumed.
For some time I had been aware that Owen, whenever I was in the bedroom and doing something like dressing or changing, was wont to loiter outside the bedroom door thinking that I was unaware of his presence, and it had amused me to occasionally leave the door slightly open, and on those occasions I was aware, even though he thought that he was unobserved, that he was trying to peep inside. I started to leave the bathroom door slightly open as well, especially when I was in the bath or the shower, and again I could hear him just outside, still thinking that I was unaware of his presence.
So perhaps I would be able to see his reaction if I were to openly allow him to see his present "in situ", so to speak.
At that time I thought that my affection was purely maternal, but I should also confess that there had been times when I had fantasised about him, even to imagining his presence when I was alone and masturbating. I had always tried to shake off this fantasy but it continued to recur from time to time.
Anyway, I had thrown down the gauntlet and it had been accepted. I had committed myself, therefore, to not only wearing the miniscule scrap of material which would transform me into feeling like a harlot, but had also committed myself to parading it for Owen's lecherous eyes!
I went upstairs to out it on, and felt as if I would be showing more than had I actually been naked, simply because it was meant to be erotic rather than practical.
I put on my bra, finding that my first reaction was to discover that my nipples had responded by hardening in anticipation, followed by an even naughtier sensation from down below when I slipped on the g-string as my pussy immediately began to leak as I began to imagine the scene when I paraded for Owen and Chloe.
It was then that I began to realise that I was actually looking forward to this display of exhibitionism, and that deep down I actually wanted to flaunt myself in this way.
So I slipped on a negligee and called to them that I was coming down, and for them both to make themselves comfortable in readiness for my appearance "on the catwalk"!
I wore nothing else whatsoever, not even shoes, and so padded into the lounge barefoot and faced them as they sat side by side on the settee waiting for my performance.
For some reason I felt no shame, now, as I stood facing them as I suddenly tugged at the restraining tie-on belt and shrugged the negligee to the floor.
So there was I, a thirty-nine year old model wearing the skimpiest of what passed for underwear, the greatest portion of my breasts on view, and even the obscene beginning of the slit to my pussy was being displayed owing to the brevity of the g-string, combined with the fact that I have always kept myself smooth down there by regular shaving.
Somehow Owen kept his cool, although his eyes were goggling at the wanton display being afforded by me, whilst Chloe was applauding me, and telling me that she had lost her bet -- that I would not have gone along with letting Owen see me like that.
I did dress again soon afterwards, but then noticed that from then on, whenever the occasion arose. I would catch Owen trying to peep furtively under my skirt, especially when I was sitting in such a way that afforded him the possibility of a view. But what is more, I found myself actually making such a view possible by deliberately sitting in such a way to make it possible!
I began to have what some would have declared as unclean thoughts, and I actually began to wish that an opportunity could arise whereby I could be made love to by Owen. And then I tried to banish the idea, but it kept returning!
But this is where the story really starts.