Kathy Andrews: Mom_s on the make

Sitting in the car waiting for her son as he bought a soft drink at the drive-in window, Misty had the most powerful urge to expose herself.

There was a group of teenagers, boys and girls, sifting about twenty feet away at a small table, sipping soft drinks. There was no one else around, and the urge to flash her legs, her crotch, at the boys and girls was almost overpowering.

She looked at her son as he stood leaning into the window. He wore jogging shorts, bright red with a yellow strip up the sides, and was bare chested. His body looked good to her. It was not the first time she had admired his body. She had been admiring it since he had been very little, and more now that he was a teenager. It wasn't that Misty was turned on by teenagers, she was just one hell of a hot woman, a very erotic woman.

This desire to expose herself was something new.

She had never thought of doing it before, although she knew the boys in school would get turned on by her high kicks, and the truth be known, so had she.

As she resisted the urge to expose her crotch to the teenagers, watching her son's back, she cursed her husband, her dead husband. If he had only been more careful in that new sports car, maybe she wouldn't be having these crazy urges, wanting to expose herself, eyeing her son as if she wanted to devour his body. If he was still alive, he would take care of this almost uncontrollable heat between her slim thighs.

But he was dead. Almost a year dead now. She looked down at her body. She wore a sleeveless sweater, and if she held her arms just right, the creamy curves of her naked tits could be seen, maybe even her nipples. The white, pleated skirt was above her knees as she sat under the wheel of the car, her nyloned legs parted just a little. She wondered what the reaction would be from the group of boys and girls if she opened the door and spread her legs wide apart. They wouldn't see much, really. She had on a pair of white bikini panties, but they were very sheer. All they would see would be the darkened outline of her pussy hair, her legs. It wouldn't be as if she was actually showing her cunt to them, she thought.

She turned her attention back to her son, who was scratching at his upper thigh. As she watched him, he lifted his shorts just enough so the cheek of his ass showed, and scratched briefly. It had been enough to tell her that Billy wasn't wearing underwear beneath his shorts, and the idea sent a gentle pulsation through her pussy.

She wondered what Billy would say if she opened the door and spread her legs as he came back to the car. She wondered if he would look at her, or turn his eyes away, blushing because he had seen his mother's panties.

The urge was stronger, and she tried to think of something else, anything not erotic.

Billy, carrying his soft drink, turned from the window. He started toward the car, but stopped when one of the teenagers called out to him. He waved, then turned toward his waiting mother again. Misty watched the front of his shorts, and then, before she could stop herself, opened the door of the car, swinging her left foot out, leaving the right inside. Her white skirt slipped along her thighs, high.

"Billy, get me one, too," she called.

Billy looked at her and almost dropped his cup.

His mother had that leg out, wide, and he could look up her dress, see the creamy softness of her thighs above her nylons, and the white crotch of her tight panties. For a moment he seemed stunned, unable to move. Misty held her leg wide, then drew it into the car, shutting the door.

As he watched her son turn back to the window, she wondered why she didn't feel ashamed of herself, or even embarrassed. What she felt instead, was delicious burning between her thighs, a tingling in and around her cunt as if she was on the verge of coming off.

He saw me, she thought. He saw my panties. When Billy came to the car, carrying the two paper cups of soft drinks, Misty reached across and opened the door for him, her skirt sliding high on her slender thighs, above the tops of her nylons, exposing her white flesh. She left it there as her son sat beside her, handing her the cup, his eyes feverish as he stared at her legs.

"Mmmmm, nice," she purred as she sipped the icy drink. "God, but it's so hot today, isn't it, baby?"

Billy nodded, unable to trust his voice.

He had, of course, seen his mother in tight shorts often, but this was different. Very different. He was excited, and trying hard to keep his cock soft. He finally pulled his eyes from her legs and looked at the group of teenagers. One pretty girl was standing, a slim leg bent as she rested her foot on the bench. The creamy cheek of her tight ass showed, and that was where he stared.

And his cock swelled inside his red shorts. "Pretty, isn't she?" Misty said. "Do you know her?"

Billy shook his head, trying to keep from looking at his mother's legs, hoping she wouldn't notice that his cock was hard.

But Misty did notice.

There was no way she could help but notice. It stuck up, a spot of wetness forming where the head was. She trembled, almost spilling her drink as she turned away.

"Here, hold this for me," she said, handing him her cup.

She started the car and pulled from the drive-in smoothly. Once on the street, she took her cup from him, sipping as she drove. She knew her son was trying to look at her legs and keep her from noticing. She pushed her left knee outward against the door, spreading the hem of her high skirt. The creamy flesh just above her nylons showed.

Misty could hardly believe she was doing this. Not exposing her legs this way, but to her own son. The desire to expose herself had been there for some time, but not to her son. Yet, she could not deny the certain lewd thrill she was getting by it. Billy would look – all boys would look, but she didn't think he would try anything with her, like feeling her or anything.

She sat behind the wheel as her son climbed out. She watched him trying to walk so his cock wouldn't show, and was amused. He wasn't shy, he just didn't want her, his mother, to know she had given him a hard-on, she thought.

Before he opened the door leading into the house, she opened her side of the car and started to step out and spilled her soft drink on her white skirt.

"Shit!" she said, getting out of the car, flapping her dress up and down. "I've spilled it all over my skirt."

Billy had turned when she heard her say shit, and now watched as she flapped her skirt up and down. He was seeing his mother's long legs, above her nylons, even her panties, and his cock almost came out of the leg of his jogging shorts. He wanted to stop staring, but couldn't.

Misty held her dress high, frowning, pretending she didn't know her son could see her panties.

"Now I've got to send it to the cleaners, and I just got it out."

When she lifted her eyes, she saw the head of her son's cock pushing just under the leg of his red shorts. Billy quickly turned, entering the house fast.

Misty sat back on the seat of the car, the door opened, her legs outside. She wondered about what she had done. She knew she had done it without thinking, but she had done it in front of her son. Obviously, it turned him on. His cock was so hard. The heat between her legs was tormenting her, and without pressing the button to lower the garage door, she parted her legs and began to fondle the insides of them, working her hands up to her panties, to her cunt. She looked out the lifted door at the quiet, well-kept street and the lawn across the way. She couldn't stop feeling herself, and finally she slipped her hand into her panties and began to stroke her cunt, sliding her fingers along the juicy slit, rubbing her swollen clit.