Satin , Skin = Seduction , Sin


It was autumn. Not just the fall, but Indian summer too; one of those perfect set of days, when it was not too cold and the humidity remained low. It was my favorite time of the year. Mom’s too, and since I live in a pretty part of New England, with the foliage in full flourish, I invited her out to my place.

I wanted to get her out. Not just out to visit me, but out of her apartment, out of the City; and out of her depression about dad dying of bone cancer six months ago. And I wanted to get her in. Into my new digs, into my bed, into the satin sheets I had bought for her coming. I wanted to get into her, into her body. Yes, I had planned to seduce my mother.

The satin sheets were just part of my master plan. It was not nefarious, not too much anyway. I had prepared everything for her stay, as if the Queen were making a regal visit. Her favorite foods, wines, (and another intoxicant she had not experienced in some time), a royal treat of a super bubble bath, a new gown for dining out and matching shoes.

It wasn’t her birthday or any special occasion. These were just my machinations to lift her out of her funk and into a romantic mood, out of her shell and into my arms, into my bed and out of her skull with ecstasy. My older sister advised me on some things, but she had no idea I was making ready to turn mom’s world on its ear and spin her on a different axis. It might have been an evil plot if it was not done in love, but love and lust were my motivations; so while it might have been naughty to contemplate, it was noble to provide happiness again to the woman I loved most.

Not that I hadn’t wanted to have sex with my mom since I was at least out of junior high. But with one thing and another, pop’s illness and some distance between the City and the cottage I rented on an estate in the ritzy area of the Connecticut suburbs, her schedule etc., I had to wait for the right time. When dad died, she stopped most of her clubs and other organizations, events, charities. She was well off, but the empty nest in the high tower was lonely and she grew more insulated and withdrawn.

This was to be her new coming out gala. Though it would be only herself and I, I wanted her to come out of her hiding. The way I thought I could crack the shell was with a good old fashion screwing. But to instigate that intimacy, that incident of incest, I knew I had to prime the perfect conditions for that outcome. Thus Operation Satin Seduction was set in motion.

I picked her up at the Cos Cob train station, about a ten minute drive from where I lived. I had the guest cottage on a water front estate. The place was set back from the road, lovely grounds which had a caretaker to see after the property. The owners were in Europe and they would winter in Palm Beach, so I wouldn’t see them until after Easter. The caretaker had a home about a quarter mile away. Fortunately he was good about plowing snow, so I was told. I had only been there about two months.

I presented mom with the new dress for going to the restaurant that evening. She was delighted, the shoes made a big hit too. Her Highness was wearing the low-cut gown I had bought, an orange and yellow and tan pattern that went with the season. After a changing at my semi-posh digs, we dined at the Hound’s Tooth. An establishment with an English club atmosphere, refined decoration and prices fit for a king. Princely sums were needed to pay the check; I hocked the crown to take her on the town. The ‘family jewels’ would be needed for other pleasures later. We made the meal leisurely and relaxed and laughed a lot as we shared.

When we got back it was a bit late and mom was tucked out, so she decided to turn in. I explained that I would sleep on the couch and she was to have my king size bed. With the golden satin sheets. I explained to her that they were brand new and had just been put on that morning in her honor. There was one caveat, she had to sleep ‘in the raw’, nude in other words. That was the rule, satin sheets were meant to be slept in naked, no exceptions. It said so, I claimed, in the small print on the linen tags. Mom didn’t dispute my authority on the matter, even though we both knew I was spouting malarkey.

That was a good sign, that I seemed to have the dominate role in my own domicile. I also didn’t intend to sleep many nights on the sofa while mom was up for the week. But that I kept to myself. I arranged everything for her convenience, made sure she was taken care of, with towels and all the amenities that I could think of, like at a fancy hotel. No mini-bar, but the liquor cabinet in the kitchen was well stocked with her favorite booze. She chose a glass of sherry to have for her nightcap. Then she went inside the room and closed the door.

Myself, I usually wear sports-shorts for a robe, as was my habit for years, since I was fourteen. (However, I sleep au naturel.) When I heard no more of her moving about, after a few minutes, I knocked on the door. “Are you under the covers?” I called out. She replied Maltepe Escort in the affirmative. I entered and went and sat on the edge of the expansive mattress. Mom was covered from her neck down, swathed in shimmering bronze, a sea of satin. “How is it?” I asked.

“Ooo! It feels like I’m in water, but I stay dry. It’s so slippery and slick and smooth and cool and sensuous! God I love it! Why didn’t your father and I ever get a set? Never mind that, it’s very thoughtful for you to have made the special effort to make the bed with your brand new sheets for me. Have you tried them yet?”

“No, mom. You’re the first to be in them. You might say they were virginal until you slipped in.”

“So a naked lady has taken the innocence of these erotic bedclothes?”

“So you are in the altogether under the linens, like I told you to be?”

“Mmm hmm,” she murmured.

I leaned forward and whispered, “Good! I wanted you to have sweet dreams and a wonderful restful time while you’re here. Would you like me to give you a back-rub before I go?”

“That would be delicious! I’d love one.”

Mom turned toward me as she rolled over to be on her tummy. In doing so the sheets were raised slightly and I got a glimpse of her breasts. The sweet teats of my maternal parent, who had suckled me as an infant, were full and firm with surprising small bright pink round nipples, for such a buxom bounty. But it did prove that at least she was topless, though I took it on faith there were no panties either on her flesh.

She settled on her stomach and I ran my hand over her back on top of the sheet. The satin made my hand slide easily over her muscles and I kneaded some of the places I was sure were tense. She moaned her contentment, like a cat purrs when stroked. I didn’t try any hanky-panky that evening, just allowed her to drift off. The next night the seduction would be in full swing.

I retreated when I her hear breathing soft and regular. I didn’t masturbate, as I wanted to keep my spunk for the following eve’s enjoyment. But I did review what I had seen of mom. The quick glance at her ta-tas was excellent. The form under the slinky coverings was still svelte and her hips while wide were not fat, just mature. Her legs had been shown to good advantage in the dress and heels I had given her, she was still the glamorous bride dad had married twenty-five years ago.

The next day was bright and sunny and warm, perfect for foliage sightseeing. I took a personal day from work and we drove north along the back roads that were a spectacular riot of multicolored leaves. The windows were down and occasionally the perfume from burning leaves scented the air. Mom suggested that we take cameras, and we bought a couple of disposables to snap scenes for our memories later. We lunched at a park in Litchfield on sandwiches from a deli. I warned her that I was cooking that evening, she should save her appetite.

As we walked along the edge of the park’s pond, we held hands and acted more like a pair of chums, than mother and son. Mom expressed her joy at being in the country and with my company. I hugged her and gave her a kiss. Our family lip-kisses between members, it only meant that we were close, nothing sexual; until I gave her a squeeze and a smooch there under a brilliant red maple tree. Testing the waters, I Frenched her.

She laughed, afterward, “Watch it mister!” she admonished, “I might get the wrong idea and think your father’s ghost has come back!”

“Do I remind you of dad, when he was my age?”

“The spitting image, right down to your feet. He wore those same sort of Wallabies shoes.”

“And what would you do if it was dad, in ectoplasmic form?”

“If he could kiss me, he can touch me, like in that old movie with Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore? If that was so, I’d drag him behind some bushes and make him ball me until I almost couldn’t walk. I haven’t hit menopause yet and I’m totally horny!” she laughed some more. Our family was never shy about sex, we believed in open and honest talk about our feelings. While this statement was neither out of line for the direct approach we took to discussing such matters, nor could it be interpreted as a come on, obviously it was of a great deal of interest to me considering my plans for the week.

When we arrived home mom sat in the kitchen with a glass of white wine and watched as I made baked squab, buttered baby beans, and made our family’s ‘Special Tators’ (mashed potatoes with sour-cream and cream-cheese mixed in). It was a novelty for her to see her son cook. I enjoyed the companionship as I puttered about with the pots and pans. Mom was loosening up, and I had a special desert already made that would be instrumental in completing her relaxation.

We went to the living room to wait for the timer to ding and dinner to be done to perfection. After some small talk about the wonderful day we had, I broached the topic of my next surprise. “What do you think of the bathroom?”

“BATH-room Anadolu Yakası Escort is right, I’m astonished that they found space for the toilet, the tub is so huge! For a small cottage, though it is more of a house than cabin, it is quite unusual to have such well appointed facilities. What’s with that?”

“The original owner was a plumber and liked to have his professional creative flair on display. Not unlike the masons who do their walls, sidewalks and gardens and driveways all in brick. Also, there was something to do with this building having been the honeymoon and getaway lodge for several of their friends and family during the summers. The place has been winterized now though. That humongous tank surrounded by the blue tiles is going to be another treat I have planned for you tonight. I bought your favorite bubble-bath, lilac scented, and after dinner, you are going to soak until your skin is like a raisin!

“Can I have a glass of sherry too?”

“Absolutely! I am planning to wait on you hand and foot.”

“There’d better be plenty of suds, if you are going to be the lavatory butler!” We both laughed. But did that remark mean I would be allowed in the room to bring her a drink? That would be unusual; the only time our clan generally invaded another’s bathroom time was to bring a fresh towel from the linen closet for somebody if they forgot. That might afford me another peek at her ta-tas perhaps. I decided that I would take it as a casual invitation, I could always retreat if indicated, and I certainly would knock first before entering.

DING! Went the bell and dinner was ready to be served. I did a fair job, the birds were only slightly overdone and the beans just needed a touch of milk to moisten them up. But the piece de resistance was the mousse. Not just a chocolate mousse, but a choco-mocha concoction with cinnamon (a touch of melted red-hots) and a special secret ingredient. I warned mom before she had a bite.

“Mom, I know you smoked pot when you were in college . . .”

“Huh! Those were heady days, when I was a like the “Banger Sisters”; a ‘head’ – of my times, so to speak.” She chuckled at her pun.

“Well I have taken the liberty of spiking the mousse with hash-oil. You won’t taste it, but you will get buzzy in time for your bath. I had to make a special trip to the Village to make the connection.”

“I hope you didn’t buy it from some street kid!”

“No, I know a guy, grad student, who lives near Washington Square. He can get most anything, but this took some doing as it is not so available as it was twenty years ago.”

“And you made momma marijuana mocha mousse because?”

“Things of a sensuous nature are more sensual stoned on pot, don’t you think? Since you don’t smoke anymore, I figured this was the best way for you to ingest the THC to get high before you luxuriated in the warm water, until well raisin-ed.”

“I have enough wrinkles on my old body, but if I’m stoned I won’t care.”

You’re not so old, you’re young at heart, and your body is still a hottie. As for wrinkles, I’d have to check that out thoroughly before I concurred.”

“How complete an examination do you want to do? Are you a licensed wrinkle inspector? Is that service complimentary?”

“Totally free for our first class guest, I’m confident that after studying your skin in detail, I will be quite complimentary about the beautiful sexy physique you have.”

“STOP!” She barked out with a laugh, “You’ll turn my head before I’m even buzzed! I’m anxious to try your dessert; I want to be really mellow for my bubble-bath.”

We ate the dark wild pudding of my unique recipe, it was very good, not too bitter, but to cut that I had a raspberry liqueur in small glasses and ice water was at hand. Afterward we cleaned up and stuck the leftovers away, the dishes and pots in the dishwasher. We retreated to the living room for more liqueur, awaiting the buzz to kick in. Soon mom began to giggle. I raised my eyebrows in a questioning expression.

“I was just remembering the last time your father and I were stoned. We had that trip to the Poconos?”

“The second honeymoon trip?”

“More like a third or fourth, but who counts after the second? Anyway, your dad scored from the office gopher. Actually he confiscated the kid’s joints when he found the guy on the roof doing a doobie. The kid was scared he was going to be fired. Your pop told him that if he gave up his stash and promised not to do it anymore on the premises, he would keep mum. We were going on the trip in a week and he knew that I would get a kick out of doing a few joints in a safe environment. We sucked a couple of jays before getting in the heart shaped hot-tub and then we proceeded to fuck our brains out.”

I had surmised that was the circumstances from the conversation’s parameters, but it was interesting to hear the details, or at least a summary of them. OH! To be a mini-cam in that plush place of erotic activity when they İstanbul Escort got busy, a fly on the wall if you will. In fact, just imagining it was getting me hard. AHH! The dope was beginning to affect the head and gonads. I hoped that mom was getting the same reaction.

“Thinking of that time makes me smile . . .” she paused “. . . and horny too!” She snorted a guffaw, “I’m catching the buzz now, I guess.” She turned her head slowly to the left and then the right. “I always have the most interesting sensation in my neck when I get stoned, it doesn’t want to be straight, but to turn to one side or another. Do you ever feel that?”

“Well, PART of my anatomy actually wants to get – straight, if you catch my drift?”

“Is that log – driftwood?”

“It would be a floating woodie in the bathtub.”

Mom nearly choked at that while sipping of the last of her alcohol, “Well don’t let it drift toward your old mom!” I was unsure of what that meant, exactly, but it sounded like an interesting situation, if we were to bathe together. But that was for later, maybe – still, I would not turn down an invitation tonight if mom asked me to join her for a wash (and maybe more?).

“Mom, let me draw your bath. Why don’t you get changed into your robe, pour yourself any libation you care for and come to the ‘palais du lilac’ when you’re ready.” She nodded and fifteen minutes later arrived with a tumbler of her sherry and dressed in a satin dressing gown. The tub had a little ways to go though it was filling rapidly. That plumber knew his water pressure! She sat on the little chair that was in the room and I on the lid of the john. We were close in the crowded quarters. We chatted about the next day. I would be dropped off to work so mom could have use of my car. She wanted to see if Greenwich Avenue lived up to its reputation as the ‘Rodeo Drive’ of the East. As if she couldn’t go along Fifth Avenue in NYC anytime she wanted to descend from her Park Ave address!

Then the water was ready. Deep, warm – but not too hot, suds as high as half a foot across the whole expanse of the oversize tub or small swimming pool (I don’t think you could quite do laps). Mom raised her eyebrows at me to signal my exit. As I did a thought crossed my mind, I dearly wished I had the idea of hiding a mini-cam for the event. I admit, even if I succeeded in my seduction, it would be something to have as a keepsake of her visit. And I could watch it after she had gone back home. Outside the door I was struck by another thought of how to return and maybe get some glimpses of her creamy skin.

I secured the bottle of sherry and knocked on the closed door. “Bathroom butler, Madam, freshen your drink?” I called. She said yes, I could enter. She was already in the water, bubbles nearly to her chin. I went in, closing the door quickly to prevent any draft. I reached over and poured the ruby liquid so her glass was three quarters full once more.

“Thank you, Jeeves. Please give my compliments to the chef for his delicious dinner this evening – especially for the most unique dessert!”

“He will be pleased it met with your approval, Madam.” I turned to go out, slightly disappointed that I had been so enthusiastic with the suds that nearly all of mom was hidden by bubbles.

However, before I exited she said, “Your father always loved to wash my back, when he was . . .” she turned and presented her back to me, rising slightly out of the water, hardly trying to cover her full knockers with her arms, “Well, would you like to take over your father’s duties?” I nodded casually, as I thought to myself, (‘In more ways than one, mom!’).

But I was chaste in my soaping of her shoulders and down her back. I even was a good boy, stopping before the crack of her ass. Not even straying to the pout of her tits that bulged out under her crossed arms. I realized that by looking at the mirror I could catch the twin beauties from a better angle, and see more flesh. Suddenly I became aware that mom was looking at me checking out her charms. She smiled at my obvious voyeurism, “Boys will be boys,” I heard her murmur under her breath. A bit embarrassed at having been so blatant in my ogling, I finished my lathering and went to prepare the next little benefit for the monarch of my heart.

There were no towels in the lav, I had set some out in her room, but none were stocked in the place they were needed. Well, after all, I was trying to seduce my mother. But it was a devious plan, since I put her towels in the clothes dryer to warm them up. Hence, when she was ready to dry off (though I was working on getting her wet between her legs and getting her off) I would be there with toasty terrycloth. Another perk at the Sonny Motel and Spa, what would I think of next? I changed finally into my sports-shorts and a tee shirt.

What I hadn’t anticipated was mom’s thirst. “Babe! Darling!!” she called. I knocked before entering, but without waiting to be asked in. After all she was calling me, and I did hope to catch a glimpse of some skin – of a personal nature, mom’s mammeries or more! No luck as her titties were well covered by the froth. “Sweetheart, could you bring your wrinkly-raisiny mommy a beer, dear boy? And bring something for yourself, this is nice, but I want some company.”

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