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Mum's Sexual Re-Awakening Pt. 01

By: devondipper



It had not been a good year for my mother. Dad had left her for a younger woman, cementing an affair which it turns out had been going on for the best part of a year, and this had really shaken mum's fragile confidence. In earlier years she had been quite slim, though with shapely hips, and although her boobs were not particularly large, they were surmounted by conspicuously large nipples, which mum had always tried to hide by wearing "sensible" bras. Like many women she had filled out a little in middle age. She was now 50 years old, her hair was going grey, and comfort eating had piled on the pounds after their split. As a result she had developed what I found an attractively full set of curves, and was very well proportioned, her plump thighs and rounded belly matching her noticeably bigger boobs. 

The marital home had been sold, and mum had bought a small flat with her share, but dad had not left her in a favourable financial position, and she was supporting herself with a part time checkout job, the proceeds of which mainly went on bills and food. So she had not been able to afford to expand her wardrobe in keeping with her increased weight. Most of the clothes that she could still get into were of the kind that would stretch to accommodate her fuller figure. This of course only served to emphasise her blossoming curves, and made mum even more self conscious about her appearance. I tried to reassure her that in many men's eyes the extra weight she was carrying was a bonus and that she should be proud of her figure, but she wasn't convinced.

For some months after dad left mum mainly hid herself away, apart from going to work and the shops. Dad had very much ruled the roost, and most of mum's social life had revolved around dad's circle of friends, and with no relatives living nearby, mum had been left feeling pretty lonely. So when mum was invited to join a leaving do for one of her supermarket colleagues, she was more than happy to accept. Her normal attire was black leggings and dark coloured tops, but her more sober evening wear no longer fitted her, and her options were very limited, so she reluctantly donned a stretchy black dress . Although it was fairly short, the neck line wasn't too low, and she hoped the dark colour would help to disguise her fuller curves a little. 

As tends to happen on these occasions, the drinks flowed freely, and although mum had certainly not intended to get drunk, she found herself getting very pleasantly merry as the evening wore on. She had really enjoyed the opportunity to get out of the house, and the good company, and found she was no longer too preoccupied about the way she looked. But when the rest of the party decided to move on to a nightclub, mum had already spent most of the cash she had set aside for the evening,and made an excuse not to join them. 

So she was left in the pub on her own to finish her drink, but as she did so a man of about her age came over and offered to buy her another. Mum was quite unprepared for this, as it hadn't even crossed her mind that any man would find her sufficiently attractive to want to do so. At first she refused, saying she had drunk too much already, but the man seemed quite pleasant, and it took little persuasion for her to agree to one more drink. He took her to met his two friends and they got chatting. After several minutes of small talk she was amazed and charmed to find herself being looked up and down and complemented on her figure. In due course she was offered another drink, but although she would have loved the attention she was receiving to continue, she suddenly felt very vulnerable now that her colleagues had gone, and regretfully refused, saying she had to get home.

The next day mum felt rather embarrassed about having got drunk, but at the same time thrilled that a man had found her sufficiently attractive to want to buy her drinks. The possibility that his main motive may have been the hope of getting his leg over didn't seem to have occurred to her. And on further reflection, she had to admit to herself that the sensation of getting drunk and the boost it gave to her confidence was actually quite agreeable. ( I remembered that dad had sometimes inveigled mum into getting drunk, and she had always become quite giggly and coquettish. I suspect his primary purpose had been to indulge in some less inhibited sex than was usually on offer. ) 

Anyway, her work colleagues must have found her company convivial, and a few weeks later she was happy to accept an invitation to join them to celebrate one of their birthdays. This was to be at a large lively pub in town. I remembered that mum had a short blue sleeveless dress with a low neck line, which I knew would show off her naturally enhanced cleavage to good effect. I think dad had bought it for her, and it was so clingy that mum, who was basically quite shy, wasn't too keen on wearing it, even when she was slimmer. But the knowledge that she could still attract male attention had been very seductive, especially if it helped pay for her drinks, so I kept encouraging her to wear it. "You'll be with a group of friends," I pointed out, "And in any case there will be lots of other women in revealing outfits at that kind of pub, so you won't feel out of place." Mum was still reluctant, but I made her promise to wear it.

The evening of the birthday outing arrived, and mum put the dress on, but avoided looking at herself in the mirror. First she needed some Dutch courage, so she walked to a nearby pub, took a deep breath, walked up to the bar and ordered a large glass of wine. The pub was busy with early evening drinkers, but mum felt too self conscious to make any eye contact. She made short work of her first glass and ordered a second. At this point the barman started chatting to her, in between serving other customers. 

Mum felt very flattered as he was both young and quite handsome, though it was probably the prospect of studying the cleavage on display instead of contemplating the beer taps that must have been the main appeal. But mum was just happy to have some male company. He had such a nice manner and a winning smile that mum found herself getting quite flirtatious with him. By the time she had finished her second drink, though, the barman was getting quite busy, so it was time to say goodbye and move on. 

The combined effects of the alcohol and the attentions of the barman had given mum a much needed boost to her confidence as she rode the bus into town. So it was with more assurance that she went into the town centre pub to meet her fellow revellers. She felt obliged to buy the birthday girl a drink as well as her own, which further depleted her meagre financial resources. Like mum, the rest of the women had already downed a few drinks, and the conversation and laughter flowed freely. After a while a couple of lads came over to talk to them, but it was clear they were more interested in the younger members of the party. Mum had a couple more drinks, but decided that the next would be her last, partly because she was starting to feel quite drunk, but also because she was running out of money. 

By now the pub was very busy, and mum had to say excuse me to a small group of men, so that she could get to the bar. But one of them looked her up and down, and to mum's astonishment and delight, offered to refill her glass. This gave them the opening to start chatting to her, and prolong the opportunity to ogle her cleavage, but by now mum must have had enough alcohol in her veins not to let it worry her too much. Her company was congenial enough for them to offer a second drink, but mum was feeling guilty about having abandoned her colleagues, so she regretfully declined and went to rejoin the Birthday group. But the further boost this had given to her confidence was enormous, and she caught the last bus home feeling more happy with herself than she had done for months.

I usually phone mum every weekend to see how she is, but if I was free on the Sunday I would drive over to see her instead. I would normally take her out for a leisurely Sunday roast, accompanied by a couple of glasses of wine, and then we would return to her flat and chat or watch TV for a while until it was time for me to go. It was on these occasions that mum would tell me how she was feeling and what she had been up to, and this was how I got to hear about her nights out. After a couple of glasses of wine she was relaxed enough to tell me everything that had gone on without embarrassment, apparently relieved to have someone she could confide in who understood her situation and didn't judge her. On the contrary, I encouraged her to get out more, rather than moping around at home. 

But she still felt uncomfortable about her age and the weight she had put on, even though I lost no opportunity to remind her that I wasn't the only one who found her fuller figure very attractive. If she thought it odd that I found my own mother appealing in that way, she didn't say so. We sat together on her sofa, and she would snuggle up to me, clearly enjoying the close physical proximity, as I'm sure she must have been quite lonely spending many evenings in on her own. On these occasions I also had a sense of contentment that we had re-established an emotional connection that had been partly broken during my teenage years and after, when I - like many young men - felt the need to establish my independence and identity. But there was more to it than that. It was becoming harder to deny that my feelings towards mum weren't just innocent affection. 

Mum looked much sexier than she probably imagined when dressed in leggings and a top, mainly because they were all at least a size too small. The leggings in particular were like a second skin encompassing her full hips, tummy and thighs, and packaged her bottom so invitingly that it was a real effort not to give it a slap. The inevitably close-fitting tops also served to emphasise her bigger bust. Each time I visited her I would find myself gazing ever more lustfully at her increasingly generous curves. 

When I arrived, I would hug her more tightly and for longer than than the usual perfunctory embrace between family members, relishing the feel of her body against me, and taking advantage of the opportunity to give her bottom a playful slap or squeeze. Not than mum seemed to mind or find it at all odd. She certainly didn't try to pull away. The same feelings would be aroused when we snuggled together on her sofa. I would put my arm around her, and she would cosy up even closer, so that I couldn't help but feel those delightful curves resting against me.

Another few weeks went by after the birthday celebration, but no more invitations had been forthcoming, and mum had reverted to her habitual nights in front of the telly, and snacking on chocolates and crisps wasn't making her any slimmer. I tried to encourage her to go out on her own, but with her underlying lack of confidence she was understandably reluctant to do so. 

"I would feel awkward on my own," she said. 

I reminded her that she had already proved to herself that certain men at least found her sufficiently attractive to be buying her drinks, so that she wouldn't be on her own for very long. 

"But I'd feel so vulnerable," mum responded, reasonably enough. 

"Always have an escape clause," I suggested. "If you don't like the way things are shaping up, say that you have to get home to attend to your aged mother, that should put them off." 

Mum considered this, but then said: "The trouble is, I haven't really fancied any of the men that have talked to me, and they all seem to be at least as old as me. Apart from the barman at my local," she added, "I fancied him all right." 

So that was it, mum was really more interested in attracting younger men. What a boost that would give to her confidence. The trouble was that she really did look her age, what with her greying hair. Suddenly I had an idea. 

"Why don't you dye your hair," I said to her, "That would take years off you."

"Well, for one thing I couldn't afford it," mum pointed out, "Do you know how much it costs?"

I didn't, but without thinking I said: "I'll pay. Make an appointment this week, and I'll give you the money."

Mum hesitated, then said: "OK then, why not?"

"But you've got to promise me you'll make an effort to go out," I said.

"We'll see," mum replied, non committally.

As I've already mentioned, mum's evening wardrobe was by now quite limited. Any spare cash she did have was being spent on bigger bras, as her existing ones were becoming uncomfortably tight. And as any woman will tell you, good quality bras aren't cheap. To try and encourage her to get out more, I decided that I would need to buy her a new outfit. I was due to come and see her the following Sunday, so I told her that we were going to go shopping after lunch . Mum of course said that she couldn't afford it, but to her delight I told her I would be paying. 

I arrived a little earlier than usual, and had forgotten that she was supposed to have been arranging to have her hair coloured. So when she opened the door, I was taken completely by surprise. In her younger days, mum's hair had been dark brown, and this is what I had assumed she would dye it, but I was astonished to find myself looking at a strawberry blonde. It certainly had the desired effect of making her look years younger, and yet appeared quite natural. Mum was obviously delighted with the result; she looked radiant, and gave me a big hug, kissing me full on the lips, which was as unexpected as it was pleasurable. 

"You look amazing," I said, "It takes ten years off you."

"Well, I don't know about that," mum replied, "But it suits me all right, does it?"

"It certainly does," I assured her.

I asked her to put on the blue dress she had worn to the Birthday celebration. Mum looked doubtful, but I told her that I remembered it was a really nice dress, and that I'd like to see her in it again. She still hesitated, but then went into the bedroom to change. When she returned with it on I couldn't conceal my delight. 

"You look gorgeous," I told her, "I can certainly see why you attracted the men." 

"Are you sure it wasn't just the chance to ogle my boobs?" mum said. 

"Well, they do look really inviting," I had to admit, "But the whole package is pretty darn hot," I said earnestly. To say that it was a snug fit would be something of an understatement, it followed every curve of her voluptuous body. I couldn't take my eyes off her. She patted the swell of her tummy. "I think it makes me look fat," she complained. 

"Nonsense," I scoffed, "You are beautifully proportioned. If you weren't my mother, I'd be making a move on you myself." I tried to make the comment sound light-hearted, but although mum's eyes widened, she didn't seem to be totally taken aback by this admission. She gave me a penetrating look which I couldn't interpret, but said nothing. 

However, the last thing I wanted was for mum to feel conspicuous and uncomfortable wearing this outfit. Our usual country pub where we went for lunch had a predominantly older clientèle, with most of the women dressed in a fairly restrained manner. So I suggested we go to a town centre pub for a change, where there was likely to be a younger and more fashionably dressed crowd, and mum readily agreed. 

She certainly received some approving looks from the men in the pub when we went in, even though most of them were with their wives or girlfriends. Mum must have been feeling self-conscious though, and was drinking faster than usual, so instead of her usual two glasses of wine, she had finished her third glass by the end of the meal. I did notice she was a bit unsteady as she rose from her seat, so it was a good excuse to put my arm snugly around her waist.

Mum had already said that she really needed a new pair of jeans, as her existing ones had become too tight for comfort. I wasn't sure that jeans would be a sensible option, as they don't have much give in them, and if mum was still putting on weight, as I suspected, they wouldn't fit her for very long. Mum saw some pairs that she liked, but as I was paying I insisted we kept on looking. 

Eventually I saw something that I just had to persuade mum to try on. It was a pair of blue lycra stretch leggings. I selected a bright red crossover top with a plunging neckline in an equally stretchy material to go with them, and told mum to try them on. I asked mum what size she was. She looked at me ruefully. 

"14," she replied, after a slight hesitation, though I think we both knew she was by now well on the way to being a size 16. As luck would have it, they didn't have a 14 in the leggings, so I told her to try on a 12. 

Mum hesitated. "I thought I was supposed to be buying something that fitted me," mum protested, but I demonstrated to her that the material was indeed very accommodating, and gave her a size 12 top to go with it. She examined the top and said: "This is very small, and anyway, it's cut so low my bra will show." 

"That's true," I agreed, "I think it would look much better on you without a bra," I suggested. 

"You must be joking!" mum exclaimed. 

"Go on," I encouraged her, "Just try it on, you'll see." Mum frowned, but took both the clothes into one of the fitting rooms. 

I knew that with three glasses of wine inside her, her natural shyness would have been compromised. Had she been sober, I'm sure she would have refused. After some minutes she re-appeared. The leggings fitted her like a second skin, and were cut low on the waist, allowing her tummy to bow out unrestricted over the elastic waistband. In truth, the top was a little on the small side, but the elastic material supported her boobs to perfection, whilst revealing an immodest amount of cleavage, and her prominent nipples were clearly outlined through the thin material. It was also a shade too short, leaving a tantalising gap of bare flesh. Mum tried to pull down the top to cover her exposed tummy, but it rose up again as soon as she let go of it.

"You look fantastic," I said. Mum looked in the mirror doubtfully. 

"I can't go around with all this on show, she said," frowning at the mirror, "Look at the size of my tummy," she said, giving it a good slap. 

"It does show it off rather well," I said, "But in any case, no one's going to be looking at your tummy." 

"Yes, well, it's not quite what I had in mind," mum said, "I really wanted something for everyday wear, that wouldn't draw attention to me. I'm hardly going to be inconspicuous dressed like this, am I?" 

"Well, you could always wear a different top with it," I pointed out, "But you have a really sexy figure," I assured her, "Make the most of it, if you try and hide it you'll just end up looking frumpy." 

Mum still looked unconvinced, so I said: "The thing is, the sort of men who like skinny women with model-like figures aren't going to be attracted to you anyway. But those who like a full set of curves, like me, are going to find that outfit irresistible." Mum considered this for a moment before saying: "Well, it's your money." 

She shrugged, then went to change back into her dress.

As I paid for the goods at the checkout, I asked if they could cut the labels off. I then handed the clothes back to mum, and asked her to put them on again. 

"Really?" mum said.

"I'd like you to get used to wearing them," I explained. "And I really like the look of you in them," I added. "We can go for another drink then, if you like, I'd feel really proud to have such a sexy lady on my arm," I said for further encouragement.

"I think I'll need another drink if I'm going to be parading round in that outfit," mum said, but she took the clothes from me and turned to go back to the changing room. 


Mum's Sexual Re-Awakening Pt. 01



"Oh, one more thing," I said casually, "You could lose the knickers as well, you can see the outline of them through the lycra."

Mum looked at me as though I'd gone mad, and I was sure she was going to refuse, but she just said: "Whatever," and carried on into the changing room.

When she re-emerged, I just had to give her a hug and a kiss. The way that the outfit strained to contain her full curves was mesmerising.

But what I also couldn't help noticing was that as she'd pulled the leggings up in a vain attempt to cover up more of her belly, the thin material had moulded to her pronounced mound of Venus, delineating a magnificent cameltoe, as it was drawn into the crack of her fanny. Without knickers on, the stretchy material also disappeared between her arse cheeks, so that each hemisphere was perfectly outlined. I couldn't resist giving her bottom a resounding smack.

"You look irresistible," I told her.

"Well, I'm glad you think so," mum said, unconvinced.

"I do," I assured her, "And I'm sure I won't be the only one. Come on, let's get another drink inside you." 

If mum was feeling self-conscious about her revealing top and exposed belly, it's just as well she probably hadn't realised how obvious her cameltoe now was. In the bright red top mum certainly did stand out from the crowd, in more ways than one, and most of the men that caught sight of her gave her a good second look. Their eyes were irresistibly drawn not only to the bountiful cleavage on view, but also to the unmistakable outline of her nipples. We went into a nearby pub. 

"You can get me a large glass of wine this time," mum demanded, "I think I deserve it." 

"Sure," I said. (I normally buy mum a standard glass, which is 175 ml, but a large is 250ml, or a third of a bottle.) I chose a table near the middle of the pub, where mum would be on full view. She was uncomfortably aware of this, and in order to gain some more alcoholic confidence, was making short work of the wine. 

I couldn't take my eyes off her.

"You really do look amazing in that outfit," I told her.

"I think there's rather too much of me on show," said mum, looking down at herself.

"There could never be too much of you on show," I assured her. 

"Well, there's rather too much of this on show," she said, patting her tummy. In a sitting position of course, as any woman will be uncomfortably aware, any excess weight round your middle bulges out even more. I couldn't resist giving it a good squeeze. 

"See what I mean?" mum asked.

"I think a curvy tummy looks really sexy," I told her.

"That's a matter of opinion," mum replied.

I had noticed that there was a group of three men, probably in their late thirties, standing at the bar, who kept looking over in mum's direction. I told mum that the men were checking her out, so of course she looked over to them, which prompted one of them to give her a big smile, and nudge his two mates. 

"See," I told her, "You're making quite an impression already." Mum gave a little giggle, and involuntarily sat up straighter in her chair, in a vain attempt to flatten her tummy, which gave them an even better view of her chest. As we carried on chatting for a while, mum kept looking over at them. The men were now looking at her more overtly, but as the wine took effect, mum didn't seem to be in the least embarrassed by the appraisal. 

When she had finished her drink I asked her if she wanted another one. Mum looked at me in surprise, as I wouldn't normally encourage her to drink so much, and said: "God, I feel drunk already," But after a moments further consideration she added: "Yeah, OK, why not then." 

"Let's see if those men will buy you one," I suggested, "Come over to the bar with me." 

I stood up and held out my hand to mum. She hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and took my hand, struggling to her feet. The men watched with undisguised interest as mum weaved her way towards them. 

"You'll have to excuse mum," I said by way of introduction, "She's been celebrating." 

"I have?" mum queried, looking at me in confusion.

"Oh yes," I confirmed, "She's celebrating being single again."

"Well, this calls for a drink," one of them said, "What would you like?"

Mum said she'd have a lager. She looked a bit taken aback when he handed her a pint.

"Is that OK?" he asked her.

"I expect I'll manage," mum replied with a giggle.

They started chatting to mum, though most of their attention was directed at her cleavage, rather than her face, but if mum was aware of this it didn't seem to bother her. I could tell that the man who'd bought her the drink fancied her by the way he was ogling her, and ventured to put his arm around her. But mum was obviously more interested in another of them. He was the best looking of them, and he was giving mum plenty of flannel, saying it was her husband's loss that they'd split up, and he was sure she wouldn't remain single for long. Mum was lapping this up, of course, edging ever closer to him.

"I wish I was single again," he confided.

"Why's that?" mum asked.

"Because then I'd be free to ask you out," he replied.

Mum gave him a look of disbelief, but he said: "Yes, really, you're a very attractive woman."

"You don't think I'm too fat then," mum enquired, patting her tummy.

"Not at all," he assured her, "We don't all like women who look like stick insects."

Mum looked really pleased at this, and her smile made her look even more appealing. 

Mum hadn't relieved herself since we'd left her flat, and it was becoming obvious from the way she was starting to fidget that she really needed to pee. But I also suspected that she was enjoying all the attention too much to want to interrupt it by going to the toilet. So she carried on chatting and giggling and drinking, as though nothing was wrong, though I doubt if the men failed to notice her increasingly ineffectual efforts to ignore her full bladder.

On a whim I said to them: "Would you mind looking after mum for a few minutes, I need to make a couple of phone calls." Mum looked at me in bewilderment, but of course the men said they would be only too happy to keep an eye on her.

"Make sure she doesn't drink too much," I added, "We don't want you getting too drunk, do we."

Mum gave me a sulky look, having by now consumed enough alcohol to outweigh her usual caution. The men assured me they would take good care of her.

"I shouldn't be too long," I said, "Then I'm afraid we really must be going."

"Take as long as you like," one of them said, as I turned to leave.

Of course, I didn't actually need to make any calls, but I walked the short distance to where the car was parked and listened to the radio for a while. As it happened, there was quite an interesting programme on, so it was over half an hour before I returned to the pub. As I went in, the four of them were laughing uproariously at something, so it seemed they were getting along as well as I had hoped. I said I was sorry for being so long, but they brushed the apology aside. 

"It's been a real pleasure," one of them said, with just the trace of a smirk. 

Mum's face was looking flushed and she had a partly full pint glass in her hand, which I was fairly sure wasn't her first. She was squeezing her legs together and showing all the symptoms of an uncomfortably over extended bladder, from time to clutching her lower belly, and I felt sure the men were enjoying the show as much as I was. She was obviously struggling to hold on as she continued to drink her beer, but once the glass was nearly empty, I took the opportunity to say that I was really sorry to break up the party, but we had to be going. Both mum and the men looked disappointed, but they said they had to be getting along as well. Mum gave each of the men a kiss and a hug, before hobbling off to the Ladies.

She came stumbling out again after several minutes, and I put my arm around her to steady her as we made our way back to the car. 

She more or less fell into the passenger seat. She belched and patted her tummy. "God, I've had a belly full this afternoon," she said happily.

As we drove back I said: "Well they seemed to enjoy your company."

"They certainly enjoyed staring at my tits," mum said. "Pity that one was married, though, he was very sweet, and I really quite fancied him. I was busting for a pee, though."

"I think that was pretty obvious to all of us," I told her, "But why didn't you go if you needed to so badly?"

"Oh, I don't know, I suppose I didn't like to while they were talking to me," mum replied.

I hesitated, then ventured: "Maybe you're one of these women who enjoy the sensation of a full bladder." 

Mum looked at me. "You won't laugh if I tell you something," she said, a little uncertainly.

"You can tell me anything," I said to her, "You know that."

"Well," she began, "It did feel rather naughty, and quite thrilling in a funny kind of way, chatting and joking as though nothing was wrong, whilst all the time I could feel my bladder was getting fuller and fuller. I decided I'd wait until you came back, but of course I wasn't sure how long you were going to be, and the uncertainty actually made it even more exciting. Does that sound strange?" she enquired, after a pause.

"Whatever turns you on," I replied.

This was undoubtedly an intriguing revelation, which I pondered in silence as I drove back to mum's flat. It was definitely something that would be worth exploring further, if mum was up for it. And with the quantity she was evidently able to drink, it shouldn't be too difficult to engineer.

When we got back to her flat we sat together on the sofa as usual and switched the telly on, though neither of us was paying it much attention. Mum snuggled up to me even closer than usual. 

"This feels so nice and cosy," mum said, with a sigh of contentment, "You're a really good son to me, and a good friend. You always manage to make me feel as though I must still have something about me, the way you seem to like showing me off. In fact, you actually make me feel sexy again, at least when I've had too much to drink." 

She looked straight at me, saying: "Do you really think your mum looks sexy dressed like this, with all this extra weight I'm carrying?"

"I think you look all the more sexy because of the weight you've put on," I replied.

Mum looked at me strangely, and said: "At times like this I keep wishing you were my boyfriend, rather than my son." I wasn't at all sure how to respond to this, so I just gave her a kiss on her cheek, and mum closed her eyes. I think all the wine had made her say more than she would admit to when sober, but the possibility that she might feel the same way about me as I felt about her set my heart racing. Though I'm ashamed to admit it, I found myself having to try and hide a huge erection. 

I think mum must have dozed off, but after a while she woke up with a start, saying she needed to go to the toilet. When she came back I told her that I would soon need to be going.

"Is it time already?" mum said, "It's so nice having company, I do look forward to your visits, you always manage to make me feel so much better."

I couldn't help thinking that it was the alcohol rather than me that was mainly responsible for that, but I said that I was really pleased if she was starting to feel more comfortable about the way she looked.

"I wish you were able to stay for longer," mum said, "It seems a shame to drive all that way just for a few hours." 

Was she asking me to stay for the weekend, I wondered. I promised her I would get over again as soon as I could manage.

(to be continued)



Mum's Sexual Re-Awakening Pt. 02



Part 2: Girls' Night Out

I normally ring mum at the weekend, but on the next Wednesday evening I was at a loose end, so I gave her a call. She was delighted to hear from me, but then her tone of voice changed and she asked if everything was OK, as people do if you call unexpectedly. I told her I was fine, but had just called to say hello and see how she was. She told me that she was OK, though she'd felt very hungover on Monday morning.

"I woke up about 3 in the morning, still fully dressed -- if you can call that outfit being fully dressed -- and still on the sofa. I was bursting for a pee, had a splitting headache, and my mouth felt dry as a desert."

"Sorry about that," I said, "I feel a bit responsible."

"Oh, don't apologise," mum said, "I had a great time." 

"So how are things on the social front?" I asked her, "Any more invites from the supermarket girls?"

"Well, as it happens," mum replied, "I've been invited to join a pub crawl on Saturday."

"Excellent," I said, "That sounds fun."

"Well, I don't even know if they were intending to invite me, I just happened to walk in the staff room when they were discussing it. And they're all quite young, I'm old enough to be their mother."

"But you said 'Yes', didn't you," I wanted to know.

"Yes," mum confirmed, "I thought; to hell with it, I haven't been out for a while. I just hope it doesn't prove too expensive, what with the price of drinks."

"If you wear that outfit I bought you on Sunday, you'll probably have men queuing up to buy you drinks," I told her.

"Oh, I don't know whether I could wear that, there's rather too much of me on show," mum said doubtfully.

"That's what makes it so sexy," I assured her, "You look really great in it. And if it's a younger group you're going out with, some of them are bound to be flashing the flesh as well, so I'm sure you won't feel out of place."

"I'll think about it," mum said.

"You do that," I said.

However, when I rang next Sunday, about midday as usual, there was no reply, which was a bit concerning, as mum would always be at home waiting for my call. I left a message saying I would ring later. I called back about 4 pm, and to my relief mum answered.

"Sorry I missed your call," mum said, "I didn't get home till about 2 this afternoon, I stayed the night with one of the girls."

"No worries," I said, "As long as you're OK."

"Well," mum said, a bit sheepishly, "We shared a taxi back to this girl's place, and I was so drunk, she told me to stop the night on her sofa."

"You're beginning to make a habit of spending the night on a sofa," I quipped. "Anyway, sounds like you must have had a good evening."

"Yes, I did have a really good time, once I was too drunk to care," mum said.

"And did you summon up the courage to wear your new outfit?" I asked her.

"Well, I tried it on, but I was in two minds whether to take it off again, I felt a bit ridiculous with my fat belly on show bulging out over the waistband," mum replied.

"Look mum," I tried to reassure her, "I know you've put on weight, but you are definitely not fat. Your tummy isn't all flabby like some women's, it's firm and round, and complements your boobs perfectly. If you had a flat tummy you'd look all out of proportion. And that top showcases your boobs admirably."

"Well, anyway, for better or worse I decided to leave it on," mum confirmed.

"Excellent," I said delightedly, "You must tell me all about it."

Mum hesitated. "I'm afraid I may have ended up making a bit of a fool of myself, I got so drunk."

"Look mum," I said, "I'm the one that's been encouraging you to go out and have fun. After all you've been through, I'm not about to chastise you if you over did it a bit." 

"Well," she said, "We'll see about that."

So this is the story I pieced together from what she told me and all the extra details I asked her.

Mum said that they had arranged to meet at a local pub for a couple of drinks before going on into town. The girls were mostly wearing quite sexy outfits, with plenty of cleavage on view, a couple with bare midriffs, and several with very short skirts. So mum didn't feel too conspicuous spilling out of her undersized skin-tight stretchy outfit. But she badly needed some Dutch courage, so she put away two large glasses of wine before they caught the bus into town. 

They didn't stop long in the first pub they visited in town, as it was too quiet, so mum rather regretted buying another large glass of wine. At this rate it could prove a very expensive night out, so she decided that she would only buy herself one more drink, and if no-one offered to buy her any more, she would cut her losses and get the bus home again. 

The next pub was more to their liking as it was a lot livelier, and mum decided to make her drink last longer by having a pint of lager. The other girls were mostly knocking back shorts, at quite an impressive rate, and a couple of them were already quite giggly. There was some debate as to the next port of call, mostly regarding which pub was likely to have the most fit young men in it. By the time they moved on, mum realised she was already quite drunk, and feeling less self conscious about the way she looked. "They can like it or lump it," she told me. After all the wine and the beer she was also in need of the toilet, but didn't want to get left behind when the others decided to leave. 

The next pub did have more single men in it, and as it was now getting later in the evening, they had drunk enough to lose any inhibitions they might have had about approaching women. And they didn't waste any time trying their luck with the supermarket girls. Despite her need to pee, mum didn't want to be left out and forego the possibility of being bought a drink, but the men made a bee-line for the prettier younger ones, and she was fully expecting to be passed by. 

Mum was was just beginning to wonder if it had been a bad idea to go out with a much younger group, but to her surprise and relief she found herself being offered a drink by a passably good-looking man of about thirty. Mum beamed at him with gratitude and said she'd love a glass of white wine. 

"Any particular sort?" the man enquired, and mum cheekily replied: "Oh, a large one." 

"That's my girl," the man said, laughing. 

"That's quite a revealing outfit you have on," he said appreciatively, once he had got mum her drink, "I like a girl who makes the most of her assets." 

"I think I need to reduce my assets a little," mum said, patting her tummy. 

"Nonsense," the man countered, "Whatever women's magazines and the ads might lead you to believe, you don't have to be stick thin to be sexy." 

He put his arm round mum's exposed waist and gave it a good squeeze. She responded by turning to face him, so that her chest was nudging his. She naturally felt really pleased that this man appeared to find her so attractive, and said that she would have quite fancied him, if his breath hadn't reeked of cigarettes. Although mum was finding it increasingly difficult to disguise her efforts to contain her full bladder, she was so seduced by his complements and enjoying his attention that she didn't want to interrupt things. With his hand still firmly clasping mum's waist, he drew her in so that her boobs and tummy were squeezed against him. 

As her need to pee became ever more insistent, mum couldn't help starting to fidget and squirm, and was sure she could feel his growing erection pressing against her swollen bladder, which she had to admit she found very exciting. Mum wasn't sure if he realised her predicament, or whether he just thought she was getting amorous with him. So mum was a bit disappointed when one of the other girls announced that they were moving on. She thanked the man for the drink, and steeled herself for a nicotine flavoured goodbye kiss. She told the girls she was bursting and asked if they could wait whilst she had a pee. As they left the pub mum noticed she wasn't the only one who was finding it impossible to walk in a straight line.

The next pub they went in was pretty crowded. As she approached the bar, mum looked to see if there was anyone likely to buy her a drink. She paused in front of a group of younger men, who looked her up and down, and a couple even smiled at her, but disappointingly they didn't seem inclined to buy her a drink. 

But then she heard someone call out: "Come over here darling, let's have a better look at you." The voice belonged to one of three men, all older than mum, all obviously drunk, and all laughing at her. These were clearly not the sort of men that mum wanted to get too friendly with, but on the other hand, if she could get a drink out of them, she was willing to humour them for a few minutes until her party moved on. So she said: "I will, if you buy me a drink," to which they readily agreed, and before long she was adding another pint of lager to all the alcohol in her belly. 

Their conversation was pretty raucous, with plenty of jokes at mum's expense and impudent questions. As mum was so obviously unsteady on her feet, it gave the one standing behind her the perfect excuse to put his arms round her, and he presently moved his hands up to avail himself of a surreptitious grope of mum's boobs. Mum was quite drunk enough to tolerate this while she supped her drink, but once she had finished it she went to rejoin her pals. Presently they decided to move on to another pub. Mum and one of the other girls were by this time staggering so badly they had to hold onto each other for support as they made their way down the street.

The next pub was noisy, and attracted a predominantly younger crowd, mainly groups of single men and women, and mum did feel a little out of place. As she stumbled around, obviously very drunk, she found herself next to four young men, who mum reckoned couldn't have been any older than about 20

"Bloody hell," one of them said, "Look at the state of that." It was obvious that these men were enjoying the kind of irrepressible confidence that results from a large intake of alcohol. 

The one who had spoken then looked at the youngest of the group and teased him by saying: 

"Here, Craig, your mum's come along to keep an eye on you," at which they all sniggered. But another one said: "I wish I had a mum like that, just look at those tits," as indeed they all were. But mum ignored their cheek, she was so flattered to be thought worthy of attention from such young men. 

"Are you really old enough to be drinking in a pub?" mum asked Craig, "You never know, I could be an undercover police officer." 

"Well, you're not exactly under cover are you," he said, "You're showing most of what you've got," he added with a leer. "Very nice it looks too," said another, approvingly.

There was a lot more banter in this vein, mostly at mum's expense, though she tried to give as good as she got, and it got progressively ruder. They didn't volunteer a drink, but mum wasn't that bothered, as she was by now struggling to remain upright, and her kidneys were working overtime processing all the drink she had already consumed. Mum was so obviously unsteady on her feet that one of the lads who was standing behind her placed his hands on the bare flesh of her midriff to help support her, and mum leaned her weight back gratefully against him, and he slid his hands round to encompass the swell of her exposed belly.

Not surprisingly, the lads couldn't take their eyes off mum's boobs, so invitingly revealed in the scant material of her red top, and mum admitted that she was actually starting to feel quite aroused by the fact that such young men appeared to find her sexually desirable. She was a little disconcerted to realise that her already prominent nipples were stiffening in response. Craig was staring at them in awe and ventured to say: "Your have the most amazing nipples, are they real?"

"Of course they are," mum replied, affronted.

"I think you should prove it," Craig said boldly, "Why don't you show us."

"I don't think you're old enough to be seeing that sort of thing," mum scoffed.

"Oh, go on," said another, "It's his Birthday."

"It is?" Craig said in confusion.

"It certainly is," said the other, giving Craig a conspiratorial look, "He's eighteen, and I think you should give him a birthday treat, he's never seen a real woman's tits in the flesh." Craig started to protest that of course he had, but they quickly told him to shut up. 

Mum told me she knew that she shouldn't really be leading them on, but all the attention they were giving her was addictive, and at that moment in her drunken state she was prepared to do almost anything to prolong the elation of being lusted after by a group of men more than young enough to be her sons. 

"Go on then," mum said to Craig, raising her arms above her head to make it easier for him to remove her top. Craig actually wavered for a moment, giving mum a questioning look, and then his mates all cheered as he carefully eased her top up and over her head. Mum stood there unashamedly naked from the waist up. 

You can imagine the effect this had on these testosterone and alcohol fuelled young men. They couldn't believe their luck, all making ribald exclamations of approval and desire. Mum even bobbed up and down a bit so that her boobs bounced and wobbled so invitingly they could hardly keep their hands off them.

"You can have a feel of them if you want, Birthday Boy," mum said to Craig, and this time he didn't hesitate. He weighed them in his hands, and as he gently tweaked her nipples, already sensitive with arousal, mum involuntarily gasped with undisguised pleasure.

The lads were naturally transfixed by the sight of mum's full shapely boobs, but one had allowed his gaze to wander down over her tummy to her crotch. "You're not wearing any knickers are you?" he whispered to her, and mum giggled by way of confirmation. 

"That's a fine cameltoe you have there," he said admiringly. Mum gave him a puzzled look. (Mum was a bit naïve about some things, and told me she wasn't even sure what a cameltoe was. She certainly hadn't realised how pronounced it was in the stretchy material of her leggings.) 

"Here," he said, standing at her side and cupping the palm of his hand round her mound, gently tracing his finger where the thin material had been drawn into the slit of her pussy. Mum's whole body jolted as though a bolt of electricity had passed through her, and for a moment the lad feared he had pushed his luck too far. 

But mum didn't pull away, and he was emboldened to probe a little deeper into her gash. Mum started to push against the finger that was irresistibly arousing her, and of course this just encouraged him to continue massaging her sex. All this attention was liberating months of unfulfilled libido in mum and she was embarrassed to feel her juices flowing. The spreading damp patch in her leggings lubricated the finger that was so expertly stimulating her, making her clit even more responsive. 

Mum was suddenly startled to realise that she was very close to cumming, and as the finger continued to work its magic mum could feel her chest and face blushing as her breathing became faster. Although her body's need for release was becoming ever more insistent, part of her felt uncomfortable about submitting to it in such a public setting. But the sensations coursing through her body were rapidly becoming unstoppable, and with an almighty shudder mum cried out as the convulsions of her orgasm overwhelmed her. Her legs buckled, and the lad standing behind her found himself supporting mum by her breasts. 

The lads watched in mute astonishment as mum's ecstasy gradually spent itself. Although the pub was noisy, and the lads were pressed close around her, it must have been pretty obvious to those nearby what had happened, but I'm sure mum would have been blissfully unaware of the stir she must have caused. 

As the aftershocks of her climax waned, mum re-opened her eyes to see the lads still staring at her with a mixture of awe and disbelief. Then they all started talking at once, delightedly telling mum how amazing that had been and so on, but mum wasn't really listening. As the reality of the exhibition she had just made of herself dawned on her, she suddenly wanted to be out of there. She grabbed her top and put it back on, almost falling as she turned to go, and staggered off to the Ladies to relieve herself.

When she re-emerged she couldn't face returning to the lads, and went to rejoin the supermarket girls. It was obvious that mum wasn't the only one who'd had too much to drink, one of them looking very much the worse for wear and unable to stand without assistance. Mum had no idea if any of them had witnessed what had been going on with the lads, but she didn't like to ask, and no-one mentioned it. 

One of the girls then told mum that some of them were going on to a nightclub, but that 3 of them were going home by taxi, and did she want to come with them. Mum didn't have enough money left for night club prices, and suddenly felt very vulnerable at the prospect of being left in the pub on her own, and said with relief that she would, and that is how she came to spend the night on the sofa of one of them.

Now she was sober, mum obviously felt ashamed at what she had done.

"Are you disgusted with me?" she asked. "I don't think I've ever been quite so drunk before."

To be honest, I was rather shocked at her exhibitionist behaviour, but the last thing I wanted to do was to puncture her fragile new-found confidence, so I said:

"Of course not. I'm proud of you for summoning up the courage to wear that outfit. It certainly had the desired effect of getting you plenty of attention. And drinks," I reminded her. "And you had some much younger men lusting after you, so you don't have to take my word for it that you still have lots of appeal."

"It is nice and reassuring to think that men still find me desirable at my age," mum said, "Though I think most of them have only one thing in mind."

"Well, maybe an outfit like that encourages them to think that, but it depends what you want," I said to her. "If you really fancy someone for a one night stand, why not go for it, as long as you're careful. You only live once." I couldn't quite believe I was saying this to my mum. Then I added, like a parent talking to a teenager: "But if you're looking for a relationship, don't jump straight into bed with them. If they're really interested in you they'll be prepared to wait."

Thinking about it afterwards, I have to admit that I found mum's narrative quite arousing, but there was another emotion nagging away at me that I was reluctant to acknowledge. It was jealousy. Although I certainly didn't begrudge mum indulging her re-awakened sexual desires, there was now no denying that I wanted a part of that for myself.

Mum went back to her usual routine of evenings in front of the telly for the next couple of weeks. Speaking to her on the phone she seemed rather subdued. I formed the impression that she felt very embarrassed about the incident with the young men in the pub, and didn't feel inclined to go out again for the time being, especially on her own. To me it seemed a real shame that one instance of over-doing things a little had caused her growing confidence in herself to falter. So she was even more pleased than usual when I said I would come and visit her the following Sunday.

When mum opened the door to me I was delighted and astonished to find that she was wearing the blue lycra leggings and red crossover top I had bought for her 4 weeks earlier. Delighted, because the way in which it struggled to contain her burgeoning curves immediately triggered all the inappropriate feelings about her that I was trying unsuccessfully to deny. And astonished because this was the outfit she was wearing when she ended up making an exhibition of herself, and I didn't think she'd want to be reminded of that. 




Mum's Sexual Re-Awakening Pt. 03



Part 3: A New Job.

The next Sunday when I phoned, I could tell straight away that mum was feeling much more upbeat than usual, and was bursting with excitement to tell me something. It turned out that she'd found some more part time work, to supplement the limited income from her checkout job. She told me that she had been walking past one of the pubs quite near her when she happened to see a notice in the window asking for part time bar staff. Before giving herself time for second thoughts, she went in to enquire. 

It turned out to be a late afternoon shift on from 3 till 7 on Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays. It was a temporary post due to maternity leave. Mum told the landlord that she had no experience of bar work, but he said she'd soon pick it up, and to her surprise offered her the job there and then. The pay rate wasn't great, but the money would still be more than welcome, the hours complemented her morning shift at the supermarket perfectly, and she thought it would be a nice sociable sort of job. 

"So when do you start?" I asked her. 

"I've already started, last Wednesday," she replied proudly. 

So of course I asked her how she'd got on.

The landlord had told her to come in an hour early on her first day so that he could show her the ropes. It was a good time to start, as there were few customers mid afternoon midweek. So after keeping an eye on mum for a while, the landlord said he would leave her to it, as he had to catch up on some paperwork. Mum was naturally quite nervous about being left on her own on her very first day, but the landlord said she could give him a shout if she had any problems, but mum was delighted to tell me that she had coped OK. 

Business got gradually busier for the last couple of hours, with people calling in for a drink on their way home from work. These were predominantly men, and were a disparate bunch, wearing anything from suits to labourers' overalls. Mum was relieved to find that they were mostly very friendly towards her, many commenting favourably on seeing a new face. (And I'm sure the figure would have been an added attraction. Although mum had deliberately dressed down in her everyday attire, she would nonetheless have looked very shapely in leggings and a snug fitting top.) 

There was even some good-natured teasing at mum's expense, owing to her inexperience in the job, and she felt herself starting to relax. More than one customer offered to buy mum a drink. Now the landlord had told her she could help herself to a soft drink during her shift, but he had not said anything about accepting alcoholic drinks from customers. Mum didn't want to do anything wrong on her first day, so she said she would accept a drink when she'd finished her shift.

As things were getting busier, mum was glad of the help when the evening barman came in at 6 o'clock. He was in his fifties, balding, and looked at the new barmaid with undisguised interest, but he was friendly enough, asking how she had got on and if there was anything she was unsure about. But it also soon became clear that he was a touchy feely sort of person. The space behind the bar in which they had to work around each other was fairly confined, and he never missed an opportunity to touch mum when he passed by. 

Initially this was just a case of brushing his hand against her arm, But before long he rested his hands on her hips as he passed behind her, just momentarily at first, but then more overtly. When mum didn't object, he tried brushing his hand "accidentally" against her backside, then progressed to giving it a light pat. In a way I couldn't blame him, mum's firm bottom did look particularly inviting encased in her black leggings. 

Many women would have taken exception to this type of behaviour, but as I've said before, I think mum missed physical contact, and was happy to accept it as an affirmation that he found her attractive. So when the opportunity presented itself, he stood right next to mum, planted the palm of one hand firmly on her bottom, and asked the customers what they thought of the gorgeous new barmaid. 

"She's too good for the likes of you," one joked with him, "You keep your hands off her, we don't want to frighten her off, do we." 

"I wouldn't do that, would I," said the barman, giving mum's bottom a little squeeze, and mum had to stifle a giggle. 

"Anyway," another said to mum, "Don't take any nonsense from him, he's a married man - God help her." 

"Oh, you always spoil things for me," the barman said, in feigned irritation.

The landlord himself looked in about quarter to 7. 

"How's the new girl getting on?" he asked a couple of his regulars. 

"Very nicely," one replied, with feeling. 

"Pity you can't get someone as good looking for the evening shift," the other said, looking pointedly at the barman. Mum couldn't help feeling pleased with herself, especially when the landlord said she could finish up. 

"We don't want Lothario over there getting too distracted from his work, do we," he said. 

So mum made her way round to the other side of the bar to avail herself of the drinks she had been offered earlier. Other customers drifted in a little later, as the earlier ones left for home, and many of them seemed to know each other, so mum kept getting introduced to the incomers as the new barmaid. So she wasn't short of company, and several of them also insisted on buying her a drink. Now mum hadn't wanted to seem at all greedy, so just asked for halves of lager, but some insisted on buying her pints, so she'd had a good belly full as the evening wore on. 

When he had the chance, the landlord came round and stood with mum at the bar. He asked her if she felt comfortable with the job, and mum said that she was, as long as he was happy with her work. 

"You seem to be fitting in just fine," he confirmed. "By the way, if you want to come in a bit early, you can have some lunch at a knock-down price with whatever's left, before you start work." (The pub was one of those that did a limited range of lunches, but no evening food.)

I was delighted that she'd had the courage to go for it, and I could tell by the tone of her voice that it had clearly given a tremendous boost to her confidence. 

"That's brilliant news," I told her, "Sounds like an ideal job for you, to get out of the house a bit more and meet some different people. You obviously made a favourable impression, you should be proud of yourself." 

"Oh, it was really nice to be the centre of attention for once," mum said, "But by the time I left about 10 o'clock I felt quite drunk, and I had to go to work at the supermarket with a hangover the next morning." 

I couldn't help chuckling. "Well, never mind," I said, "They were bound to make a fuss of somebody new, especially someone as nice as you." 

"Oh, I don't know about that," mum said, "And I didn't wear anything special," but I told her that she couldn't help but look sexy with a figure like hers. 

"So how did the rest of the week go?" I asked her. 

"It was great," she replied. "On the Thursday, I decided to go in early to see what the lunch was like." 

"Any good?" I asked. 

"Well, it wasn't exactly gourmet," mum replied, "But it was certainly filling, and it saved me having to prepare anything myself. I asked the landlord if it was all right to have a drink before starting work, and he said: 'Of course, but don't overdo it, because it's not good practise to leave the bar unattended if you need to go to the toilet.' So I just had one pint to wash it down with," mum said. 

"And how did the shift go?" I enquired. 

"Fine," mum replied, "It was very quiet again for the first couple of hours, and a few different customers came in later on, and most of the men wanted to chat to me, which was nice." 

"And how about sex pest?" I asked, "Was he on duty again?"

"Oh, he's all right really," mum said, "He must have been feeling a bit guilty, because when he came in he took me to one side and said that I could tell him to back off if I wanted to, and he wouldn't take offence." 

"So did you?" I asked. 

"No!" mum said dismissively, "I said I didn't mind, but told him that he shouldn't get any ideas."

"So did you stop behind again?" I asked. 

"Well, I had to go for a pee first, after my pint at lunchtime, but would you believe that three drinks had already been promised me when I'd finished my shift, so it would have been rude to turn them down. And then I got introduced to some other people, and a few from the previous evening came in again, so I never had an empty glass. The thing is, it's nice and cosy in there and the people are so friendly, I didn't relish the prospect of going back to my empty flat again." 

"Don't apologise," I said, "I've been encouraging you to get out more all along." 

"But by the time I left," mum said, "I was well on the way to being drunk again. The landlord must think I'm a right boozer." 

"I bet he hasn't complained, though," I said, "After all, it's all money in the till." 

"He doesn't seem to mind," mum confirmed, "He comes and chats to me sometimes if there's a lull, and even got me a drink on the house. But it's no fun getting up the next morning with a headache, it's just as well the checkout isn't a very demanding job." 

"Just remember to have a drink of water before you go to bed, and if you get up in the night," I advised her, "That will stop you getting dehydrated."

"So how did the Friday go?" I asked her next.

"Well, I wanted to wear something a bit different, as I had worn much the same thing for the first two days, and I thought perhaps I should be a bit smarter on the Friday. But not very much fits me theses days. I've got those two dresses I can still squeeze into, but I didn't want to to use them as work wear, and then I found that pair of shiny black leggings. Do you remember them?" 

Indeed I did. Dad had bought them for her, and I'd only ever known mum wear them at dad's instigation. They really did look as though they had been sprayed on, they were so clingy. I was under the impression that mum had thought them a bit tarty, so I was surprised, but thrilled, that she had decided to wear them. She had selected a black long-sleeved slinky top to complete the ensemble. 

"Well done, you must have looked stunning," I told her. 

"Well, I didn't get any complaints," mum said. "Anyway, I went in early again and had my lunch and a pint at the pub, and it was pretty quiet to start with, but it did get busier than the previous days, especially later in the evening, but of course I was off duty by then. But this chap in a suit came in about half past four, and ordered a pint of bitter and a large glass of wine. When I put them on the counter, he pushed the wine glass over to me and said: that's for you. I told him I didn't think I should be drinking on duty, but he said he knew the landlord, and would take the blame, and in any case the landlord wasn't there to see, was he." 

Mum said she was a bit reluctant, after her pint at lunchtime, but couldn't really refuse. So mum was already in need of a pee by the time the 6 o'clock barman came in, but was reluctant to ask to be excused, as she was sure he would tease her about it. Of course, the barman found mum's attire irresistible, and couldn't take his eyes off her. Not surprisingly, he couldn't keep his hands off her, either. He called her his little temptress, and was quite openly fondling her whenever he got the chance, delighted that he had such a nubile and compliant participant. 

I asked mum if it bothered her, but she said it almost felt like he was at her mercy, rather than the other way round, so she was quite content to play along. She knew - and he knew - that if he went too far mum could put a stop to it at any time. And it was quite obvious to the customers that he was having a job to control himself, which they found very funny, and he became the target of much teasing and scolding. 

Through it all mum carried on serving, whilst trying to ignore the nagging urge in her bladder until the end of her shift. But before she could relieve herself, the landlord asked her into a back room to give mum her first week's pay. As she hadn't thought to ask him previously about the pay arrangements, this came as a very pleasant surprise. 

"I'm certainly glad I decided to take you on," he told her, "You seem to be fitting in really well. The customers obviously like you, and I think you're going to be good for business. Especially with the outfit you've got on this evening," he added, with a wink. 

"So did you stop on again," I asked her, though I was pretty sure what the answer would be.

Mum said that she didn't fancy going straight home on a Friday evening, and in any case, a couple of drinks had already been bought for her for when she finished. She said that there were more couples in on the Friday, but there were others she already knew, and she was introduced to yet more as the evening wore on. 

"How did they react to your outfit?" I wanted to know. Mum said she could tell she was getting plenty of looks, and received lots of complements, some of them quite cheeky. Now they were getting to know mum better, several men started asking her whether she had a boyfriend, what she was doing Saturday evening, and a few asked directly if she wanted to go out with them. 

"Well that's really nice," I said, "Though I'm not surprised you were in demand with that outfit on. So did you take up any of the offers?" But mum said that the men who had asked her out were all about her age or older, and she didn't really fancy any of them. And as she was going to be working there regularly, she thought it might make things awkward if she appeared to be favouring one customer over the others, especially if the date didn't go well. So she told them that she already had a boyfriend, who visited her at the weekend. I couldn't fault her reasoning, and told her that I thought she had been very astute to think it through like that. 

"That's all very well," mum said, "But I was really enjoying all the company and attention in the pub, and if I was saying I wasn't available, I didn't want them to think I was just there in order to be plied with drinks all evening. So now I had been paid, I started offering to buy drinks in return. They seemed very impressed that I was willing to pay my way, but most wouldn't hear of it, and now that they know I have no trouble putting the stuff away, most of them buy me pints." 

"I'd promised myself I wouldn't have so much to drink this evening, as I had to go to work again at the supermarket on Saturday morning. But by the time I left the pub, well past 11 o'clock, I couldn't walk in a straight line. I did remember to drink plenty of water when I got home," she continued, "But I really didn't want to get up the next morning. I must have looked rough, because a couple of the supermarket girls said I looked as though I'd had a good night out."

"So did you go out yesterday (ie Saturday) as well?" I enquired.

"I wasn't intending to, I thought I'd stay in and detox," mum replied. "But when I got home from the supermarket I still felt a bit hungover and tired, so I actually went to sleep for a few hours. When I woke up again I felt a lot better, and hungry, but I couldn't be bothered to cook, and I thought why not go out for something to eat. I can afford it now I'm earning a bit more money. So I decided to catch the bus into town and go to that big pub that does good value food and cheap drinks."

"What did you wear?" I wanted to know.

"Well, as it was Saturday I didn't want to wear my usual leggings and top, so I thought I'd put on my blue dress," mum replied.

"Good girl," I said, "I only wish I'd been there to see it."

"Anyway, I went to the pub and ordered a pint and a meal, mum continued. The pub was busy and I had to wait a while for my food. I must have been thirsty, because I'd nearly finished my pint by the time the food arrived, so I went and bought another one to accompany the meal. Although I was on my own, I felt quite cosy in the sociable atmosphere of the pub, so when I'd finished, I decided to have one more drink before I went home for an early night. However, things didn't quite work out that way," she added intriguingly.

"Go on," I said.

"Well," mum continued, "There was a man at the bar, about thirty-ish I would guess, short hair, quite good looking in a rugged sort of way, but what really caught my eye was the skin-tight lycra outfit he was wearing. I couldn't help staring at the bulge in his black leggings, and the short sleeved top packaged his chest very nicely as well. I was so absorbed, it took me a moment to register that he was offering to refill my glass. 'I do like a girl who drinks pints' he said, and smiled indulgently as I sort of stammered that I'd love another drink. He sank the rest of his pint and ordered two more."

"'So what's a gorgeous lady like you doing out on her own on a Saturday evening?' he asked me. 

I told him vaguely that I was supposed to be meeting someone a bit later. We chatted for a while as we drank, and he asked my name, which was nice. He was called Dave. He finished his pint before I'd drunk much more than half of mine, and said: 'Drink up, I'll get you another'. I told him that it was my round, but he insisted on getting these in, saying that he would let me buy the next round. He looked at me approvingly as I sank the rest of my pint in one go, so he could refill it." 

"He supped his next pint more slowly, which I was glad of, as I felt I would have to keep up with him if I was buying the next round." Mum said that she felt really comfortable chatting away with him, and for once it wasn't the man ogling her so much as the other way round. Mum said he must have noticed that her eyes kept getting drawn to his lycra leggings, and particularly the inviting bulge in his crotch, which she was sure was getting bigger. 

The fourth pint, aided by Dave's congenial company, was definitely making mum feel more relaxed and flirtatious. But all the beer was also having its other inevitable effect, and by the time they had finished their drinks, she was no longer able to ignore her increasingly urgent need to pee. Mum said she was sure Dave was watching her with heightened interest as she began to fidget and shift her weight to try and relieve the pressure in her bladder. 

As mum ordered the next round, Dave was saying: "You do look stunning in that dress. I love the way it shows off your curves," he added approvingly, tracing a the palm of his hand discretely down her side and over her hips. But after a big meal and four pints of beer mum was uncomfortably aware that the swell of her tummy was even more pronounced than usual, and the way in which the slinky material clung to the top of her meaty thighs accentuated it even more. 

"I think I've got too many curves to be wearing something like this," mum said ruefully, slapping her belly.

"Nonsense," Dave said. "You've got a sensational figure, you should be proud of it."

"Well, thank you," mum said, accepting the compliment gratefully, "But you look pretty fit yourself. And those leggings don't leave much to the imagination, either," she added. 

Mum said she was sure that she could discern the outline of his sizeable erect penis within the lycra, the ridge of the corona particularly evident at the base of his bulbous glans. Mum admitted that she couldn't help fantasizing about what it would be like to have such a fine tool probing her pussy lips and feel its firmness filling her sex. She felt her vagina becoming slick with desire in response. And she had to admit to herself that the sensation of holding on to such a full bladder was heightening the arousal she was feeling. 

Mum finally looked up from her revelry to find Dave smiling at her knowingly. In a futile attempt to take her mind off its fixation, she said: "You must be keen on cycling."




Mum's Sexual Re-Awakening Pt. 04



Part 4: A Memorable Weekend.

I was wondering what excuse I could give my girlfriend to enable me to spend both a Saturday and Sunday with mum, but as it happened I didn't have to. Because early the following week, my girlfriend announced that she had been invited away for the weekend to an old school friend's reunion. She said I could come along if I wanted, but didn't think I would enjoy it very much because I wouldn't know anybody. I pretended to consider it, then said with mock reluctance that maybe she was right. 

Inwardly, of course, I was thrilled, as it opened up the possibility of seeing mum for the two days. So I phoned mum on the Tuesday evening to say that I could come over and stay the coming weekend if that was convenient. I must say I was a little bit nervous about actually going ahead and proposing this, and about how mum would react. But I need not have worried, mum was delighted at the prospect. As she was working on the Saturday morning, I said I would call round about 3 o'clock.

Of course, I couldn't be sure what the sleeping arrangements were going to be, but if mum was serious about wanting me to share her bed, now would be her opportunity. I was in a lather of nervous anticipation about it all week. There was by now no denying that I found my mother sexually attractive and that I longed to satisfy my lust and curiosity, but could I bring myself to actually follow through with it. These thoughts were still going through my mind as I drove over, and even if nothing happened, I was still very much looking forward to seeing mum again. 

To celebrate mum's new job, I had decided to buy her a new dress. I wanted something that would show off her figure to maximum advantage, and after looking round several shops I chose a light brown halter neck dress. It was quite short, and cut very low at the back. Although mum was now at least a size 14, I bought a size 12, as the material was quite elastic, and I was sure it would stretch to accommodate her expanded curves. So I told her not to get dressed up, as I had bought her a new dress to wear. 

When I called on her at the appointed hour, she answered the door dressed just in a very short silky dressing gown. 

"Very nice," I drawled in a tone of sleazy appreciation, as I drew her into a hug. "Perhaps we'll forget about the new dress, just keep on what you're wearing now," I said. Mum giggled. She felt amazing through the dressing gown as I ran my hands over her, and I could feel by the softness of her breasts against me that she wasn't wearing a bra. 

"So how's my favourite milf?" I asked her, when I finally released my embrace.

"I'm good," mum replied, smiling.

"You're certainly looking good," I confirmed. 

And she was. The change in her manner and appearance was remarkable, compared with 4 weeks ago when she clung to me craving reassurance. Her expression was much happier and confident, and this in turn made her look more attractive and sexy. I found my gaze lingering on her gown and couldn't help imagining what lay beneath. It was tied loosely round the waist, and it took a major effort of restraint not to pull the cord and allow the robe fall open.

"Hello!" I heard mum calling in a sing-song voice, drawing me out of my reverie. "Aren't you going to show me what you've bought me, then. I love surprises."

"You'd better see what it is before you get too excited," I cautioned her. She opened the bag, pulled out the dress and held it against her. 

"Jeez, didn't they have a bigger size?" mum said laughing, "I'll never get into that." 

In truth, it did look ridiculously small against her.

"It's nice and stretchy," I pointed out. 

"It will have to be," mum said.

"And you won't need to wear a bra," I pointed out.

"Well, that's good," mum said, "I've hardly got any that still fit me properly."

"Are you going to see if it fits, then?" I asked her.

A few weeks ago, I think mum would have refused point blank to even try it on. Now she took it as a challenge. 

"I'll have a bloody good try," mum replied, going into her bedroom with it and - to my disappointment - decorously pushing the door to behind her, with a look that said: 'not yet...'

After a few minutes she summoned me into her bedroom.

When I went in I couldn't believe my eyes. 

Her shapely boobs hung down into the close fitting bikini-style halter top, which was gathered in immediately below her bust, helping to support it and resulting in the most eye-popping display of cleavage. Moreover, the thin material did nothing to disguise the outline of her prominent nipples. The remainder of the dress clung to her like a second skin, wrapping itself tightly around the very top of her plump thighs, showcasing the swell of her hips, belly and bottom, which I found very arousing. 

"You look stunning," I said. 

And she did. As any woman will be uncomfortably aware, whereas dark colours help to flatter any unwanted bulges, light coloured dresses like this one tend to accentuate curves, which was exactly the effect I had intended. But I was also sure that there were more curves to show off than the last time I had seen her. Her fuller boobs looked sensational spilling out of the halter top, and there was no disguising her tummy bulge, but it was still firm and proud, not saggy like many women who have put on weight. 

"It doesn't leave very much to the imagination, does it," mum said, examining herself in the mirror, 

"And it makes my tummy look even fatter," she added, giving it a good slap.

"I think your belly looks really sexy," I told her, "But in any case, nobody is going to be looking at your tummy. You are certainly developing a very fine set of boobs."

"Well, it is nice to know that all the extra weight isn't just going on my tummy. Perhaps all the beer I'm drinking is doing me some favours after all," mum said.

"So keep on drinking," I said.

"I wasn't planning to stop," mum replied, with a smirk.

I went up close, put my arms around her and drew her to me. We looked at each other, our lips only inches apart, and mum moved in for the kiss, her lips parted and our tongues met, tentatively at first, and then more forcefully. It gave me a weird feeling but was undeniably thrilling, and when we finally drew apart the bulge in my jeans must have been obvious. Mum gave me a knowing smile and said: Let's go and have something to eat, I'm starving.

I was about to suggest going to the pub in town that we went to before, but mum had other ideas. "Can we go for an Italian this time?" she asked, "I'd love some pasta for a change." 

"Of course," I replied, "There's a good one in town, isn't there?" 

"Great!" mum said, and gave me another hug. This was becoming a habit, and I didn't waste the opportunity of giving her inviting bottom a good squeeze in return. 

I decided to catch the bus into town, as parking was likely to be a problem on a Saturday. The bus driver certainly took his time issuing our tickets as he copped an eyeful of mum's cleavage. As I've said, mum's dress was daringly short, and it rose up as she sat down on the bus, exposing the full length of her beefy thighs. If there hadn't been another seat immediately in front, anyone caring to look would have clearly been able to see mum's knickers. Except that they wouldn't, because mum bent her mouth to my ear and confided that she wasn't wearing any. 

"Is that so?" I said, mightily impressed. I placed my hand on her thigh, and she slowly parted her legs, allowing me to slide my hand up the inside of her thighs until my fingers brushed the wispy hairs of her sex. 

"You are living dangerously, you naughty girl," I said, and mum giggled delightedly.

As we walked from the bus stop to the restaurant mum looked incredibly sexy with the tight dress clinging tenaciously to all her curves, and barely long enough to conceal her bottom, with her braless boobs swaying delightfully, as the meagre support of the halter top struggled to contain them. Mum was certainly turning heads as we went into the restaurant and were shown to a table. I ordered a pint of lager for myself, and a bottle of wine for mum as we studied the menu. I was sitting opposite mum, and couldn't take my eyes off her; she looked radiant, and the view down her cleavage was vertiginous. 

I asked her if she'd been on the beer again yesterday evening after she'd finished her shift in the pub.

"Only for a couple of hours," mum replied, "I didn't want to be tired and hungover when my toyboy was coming round for the weekend, did I?" 

"I feel very privileged," I said. "I'm surprised they let you go earlier if you were wearing those shiny leggings again."

"Oh, it wasn't for want of trying," mum said, "But I told them my boyfriend was arriving."

Mum had already finished almost half the bottle of wine by the time the food arrived. We carried on chatting as we ate, mum enjoying a big plate of pasta. 

I was intrigued to know whether she had responded to either of the phone numbers she had been given. Mum said: "Not yet."

"Which of them tempts you most?" I wanted to know, "'Watersports' Dave, or Rachel?"

Mum considered this for a moment. She said that she would really like Rachel as a friend, because they got along so well. "I think we could have a lot of fun together," mum said

"Including sharing her bed,?" I asked.

"It's not such a dreadful prospect," mum replied, "And you know what they say: you should try anything once."

"Mind you," she continued, "Dave seemed very nice as well, and not at all pushy, like some blokes are. And he did look very sexy in his lycra."

By now mum had finished her meal, and the bottle of wine, so I asked her if she wanted to look at the sweet menu. 

"Oh, go on then," she said, "There's no harm in looking, is there." I could almost see her salivating as she cast her eye down the choices, and decided upon some confection full of chocolate. If she was worried about her figure, she wasn't going to let it spoil her appetite. 

"I'll need another drink to wash it down, though," mum told me, so I went and bought her another glass of wine.

When she'd finished, she leaned back in her chair, saying: "I'm stuffed."

"You should be so lucky," I joked.

"Well, I certainly hope so," mum retorted, looking straight at me.

Her belly certainly did look bloated, as it challenged the elasticity of the dress. I couldn't resist patting it. I asked her if she'd got room in there for another drink.

"Of course," mum said, "I've always got room for another drink, but let's go somewhere a bit more cosy."

"OK", I said, and asked for the bill.

Despite the moderating effects of all the food, mum was now well under the influence of all the alcohol she had consumed, and I had to help her to her feet, before guiding her slowly down the street with my arm snugly around her waist. We went into a nearby pub, which contained a mixture of couples and a few single men drinking at the bar. They all gave mum a good look as we went in, and whether or not they found her particularly attractive, most of them seemed mesmerised by the view. Mum ordered a Snakebite & Black, adding a toxic cocktail of beer and cider to the litre of wine she was already carrying in her belly. 

I was so proud to be standing with my arm around mum, showcasing her voluptuous curves in that revealing dress, I decided to remain at the bar, instead of sitting down, the better for everyone to view her. However, mum had noticed that there was one vacant stool at the bar. She hoisted herself rather inelegantly onto it, sitting with her knees slightly apart, so that she was facing away from the bar, and could be seen by anyone in the pub who cared to look. And quite a few did. Had she remembered that she wasn't wearing any knickers? I was pretty sure that she had, and knew exactly what she was doing. I was also sure that if she had been on her own, she wouldn't have done anything so wanton, but because she was with me, she felt invulnerable. 

Mum was relishing the attention, actively courting eye contact, and returning a conspiratorial smile to those whose gaze was lingering much longer than was discrete. When I was able to snare her attention, I asked her what she wanted to do next, but she said she didn't mind. I knew that mum was partial to a Rom-Com, and I had found out that one was showing at the local multiplex, so I asked if she fancied going to the cinema, and told her what was on. 

"Ooh," she cooed, "That would be lovely, I haven't been to the pictures for years."

When mum had finished her drink, I suggested we make our way to the cinema. Mum nearly fell as she launched herself off the bar stool.

"Rachel warned me that drink had a kick in it," mum said, after she'd finished laughing at herself. 

She then made her precarious way towards the Ladies toilet, holding onto various items of furniture for support as she did so. I did consider helping her, but I got the feeling she was enjoying making a drunken exhibition of herself, as she paused several times to look around at the various reactions of amusement, lechery and disgust that she was eliciting.

I kept my arm firmly round mum's waist as we walked slowly to the cinema.

I booked seats in the back row for us, but there was still a bit of time to kill before the programme started, and mum had already noticed that the cinema had its own bar area next to the lobby. 

"I'm going to have another drink," she announced. It was obvious that she was already having great difficulty remaining upright, but that wouldn't be a problem when she was going to be sitting down for the next two hours. I told her she'd better make it a small one, as it was quite a long film, but mum said she was thirsty, and ordered another pint of snakebite.

We chatted for a while, and then I went off to empty my bladder before the film started. When I came back, mum was leaning provocatively on the bar talking to the young barman. He had his attention riveted to mum's cleavage, which she had knowingly displayed to maximum advantage. He must have noted me returning in his peripheral vision, but I didn't want to interrupt the proceedings, so I stood a little distance apart, pretending to study a poster detailing forthcoming films. 

Mum hadn't even noticed my return. She was laughing at something the barman had said. 

"God, I feel drunk," she slurred. 

"Doesn't your son mind?" the barman asked her. 

"Oh, him," she said, almost dismissively, "He's the one buying me all the drinks. He's my toyboy," she added proudly. 

"I see," the barman said, in a tone of voice that suggested the very opposite. 

"He bought me this dress," mum told him. "Do you think I'm too fat for it?" she asked, sticking her chest out even further. 

"Not at all," he replied, "I think you've got a lovely figure." 

"Oh, you're so nice," mum said, looking him straight in the eye, "I wish I was your age again, I wouldn't guard my pussy so preciously, I feel like I've missed out all these years. Have you got a girlfriend?" she asked him. 

"Sort of," he replied vaguely. 

"I bet you can keep it up all night, can't you?" mum said. 

"Well, er," he mumbled, blushing. 

"Your too modest," mum said, "I'd put you to the test if I was your girlfriend." 

"I'm sure you would," he confirmed.

I glanced at my watch and walked over to them: 

"It's time we were going in, mum." She looked round stupidly at me in surprise, almost as though she had forgotten why we were there. 

"OK," she said, and drained the remainder of her pint. 

"I hope you've got a strong bladder," the barman ventured to say, but mum just giggled. As she moved from the support of the bar, she swayed alarmingly, and I'm sure she would have fallen, had I not moved to support her. I put my arm firmly round her waist, but that didn't prevent her stumbling up the steps in the auditorium. We found our seats, raised the armrest between us up out of the way, snuggled in close, and I draped an arm around her shoulders. 

"I feel like a teenager again, sitting in the back row," she drawled. "I hope you're not going to try anything on," she added playfully, "I know what you boys are like," but I just smiled mischievously and gave her a kiss. We sat watching the ads and trailers, and then the main feature started. In the flickering light of the film, I could look down on the bountiful globes of mum's boobs within the halter top, but I also couldn't help noticing the pale flesh of mum's plump thighs fully exposed in their abundant glory. Her dress, which was immodestly short to start with, must have ridden up as mum slumped in her seat. 

Her legs looked so inviting, I couldn't resist placing my other hand on her thigh, and gave it a gentle squeeze. Mum didn't object, so I started gently caressing its generous proportions up and down until my hand was brushing the wispy hairs of her pussy. Not wanting to push my luck, I continued kneading the yielding flesh of her inner thighs, which I now had full access to as mum's legs had slowly parted. 

After some minutes, I felt her place her hand over mine. I thought she was going to remove it, but instead, she guided it up to her crotch. I started exploring her thatch with my middle finger until I found the entrance to her cunt, already warm, wet and welcoming. Mum shuddered as my finger slipped in. We had a whole film ahead of us, so there was no need to rush things, so I gently worked my finger in and out, as mum sighed with pleasure. 

Mum's breathing was gradually getting heavier, so after a while I slid my finger out and up until I felt the hard nub of her clit. Mum jolted as though an electric shock had gone through her. It was obvious she was already very aroused, so I swirled my finger lightly all around her clit, taking care not to touch the tip. 

"God, that feels so good," I heard mum whisper. The film was quite forgotten, as she closed her eyes and succumbed to the waves of pleasure emanating from her inflamed sex. Her breath was coming in short gasps, as my finger continued encircling the bud. Now she clasped both hands to her breasts and started squeezing the engorged nipples. 

Mum was now moaning quite audibly and she hissed at me urgently: 

"Make me cum, make me cum." I teased my finger around the nub a while longer before giving the tip of her clit the lightest of caresses, and mum immediately convulsed into orgasm, with a kind of strangulated cry that had those sitting nearby looking round in alarm or annoyance. I continued stroking my finger across the super-sensitised organ as Mum thrashed around in her seat, moaning in ecstasy at my touch. 

At length, I removed my hand, and mum's breathing very gradually returned to something more normal. I leaned over and kissed her, tentatively at first, but more urgently as she responded, until mum was taking the initiative and our tongues were wrestling furiously with each other in their eagerness to explore each other's mouths. After some minutes of this, we paused for breath, and then our lips met again, more tenderly and lingering this time. 

Suddenly I felt mum's hand alight on the front of my jeans, her fingers reaching for the zip, and tugging it down. I told her to hold on for a second, whilst I reached inside my jeans and pulled my briefs to one side in order to release my rampant erection. Mum placed her hand around it, and made an unmistakably appreciative noise as she felt its hardness and length. 

"Who's a big boy, then?" she said, after she'd been rubbing her fingers up and down it for a few moments. What with the excitement of making mum cum, and being in such a public place, I was already very near to cumming myself. I hadn't seen my girlfriend for nearly a week, and not even had a wank for a couple of days, so I knew that when I did cum, it would be a really big one. I was getting quite concerned about the prospect of shooting spunk all over my jeans and t-shirt, as I knew from previous experience how difficult it is to clean off.