Incest/Taboo Mom Tries Belly Dancing

"Mom?" I pushed the door to her room open an inch or so.

"Mom?"

There was no answer so I pushed the door another foot and looked in. Mom was lying in bed, eyes open but listless. I carried the tray to her side of the bed and sat down with it in my lap.

"I brought you some breakfast."

Mom looked at the tray without interest. "I'm not hungry."

"You should eat," I said, sounding like her when I was sick.

Mom shook her head when I put some toast near her lips but I persisted, like she did with me when I was sick, and eventually she took it into her mouth, chewing slowly and without relish despite the layer of her favorite jam, blackberry current.

As Mom ate, life began to stir within her. Her glacial, listless chewing became stronger until she was biting the toast with anger. Good, I thought, get mad at the bastard.

When the toast was gone, Mom was determined if not happy. She told me to leave so she could get dressed but flung the covers back right after I got off the bed and before I had even turned around. Her warm body filled the knee-length nightgown and her breasts jostled enticingly beneath the bodice. I shook my head and turned away, angry with myself. I would never see Mom belly dance again and I was glad of it. I was ashamed of my thoughts and the way I had looked at her, and especially of what I imagined and did at night in my room. To think Mom had cleaned those filthy pajamas. Oh God, I vowed to make it up to her.

"Mom?"

Mom turned her head slightly my way. Her back was to me and she was stepping into a skirt that she slid up under the nightgown. She turned, and her breasts thrust against the nightgown as the flimsy material twisted around her torso.

"I, uh, I..."

"Spit it out, Curtis."

Mom started to pull the nightgown over her head, then realized what she was doing, and let it settle back onto her breasts which were obviously not covered by anything else. I looked down, afraid that I couldn't keep my gaze off her womanly assets.

"I'll take you out for Greek food."

"What?"

"I'd said, I'd like to take you to that Greek restaurant."

Mom smiled. "Oh, you would, would you?"

I didn't see what was so funny and said so.

"Are you interested in Greek food, or belly dancing?"

I blushed. "Dad said they only had old women there."

"He said middle-aged women, like me, but no matter. Your father doesn't know what he's talking about. I'm sure the dancers are much younger."

"Anyway," I said, "I'd like to go with you."

"Alright then," Mom said defiantly. "Let's you and I go out for dinner and your father can fend for himself."

Mom suggested I cut the lawn and clean up the garage so Dad wouldn't have anything to complain about if he came home after we left and found us gone. As it was, Dad came home before we left. Mom informed him we were going out for dinner to the Greek restaurant. He wasn't upset. In fact, while Mom was upstairs getting dressed, he thanked me for getting him off the hook and gave me a hundred dollars to pay for dinner.

Mom came downstairs with one of her dress coats already on. Although the coat covered her from shoulders to below her knees, I could tell she had dressed up by the shoes she was wearing and was glad that I had put on a sports jacket and tie. Mom had also put her hair up which she only did when she and Dad went to their company Christmas parties. She looked nice with her hair up.

"We won't be late," Mom said as she pecked Dad on the cheek.

"Take your time and enjoy yourself," Dad replied, already aiming the remote at the TV.

A strange excitement surged upward from the knot in my stomach as I closed the door behind Mom and ran to open the car door for her. I had never gone out for dinner alone with Mom and it felt oddly like a date.

Stop that nonsense, I chided myself.

Mom thanked me for opening the door and as she swung her legs into the car the coat briefly parted to her knees without revealing a dress underneath. She provided directions to the restaurant. I became progressively more anxious on the way there, my mind straying to thoughts of just how short Mom's dress was instead of concentrating on what she was saying.

What's the matter with you? I asked myself.

When we got to the restaurant, I had only a vague notion of what Mom had been talking about. She waited for me to come around to open the door for her which strengthened the sense that we were on a date and made me feel that I was in a small way making up for my inappropriate thoughts and Dad's callous ignorance. As we climbed the steps up to the restaurant Mom told me the reservation was in our name. This was obvious, of course, but I realized Mom was telling me, as the man, to handle the interaction with the hostess.

Before leading us to a table the host asked Mom if she wanted to check her coat. When she removed it, I sucked in my breath. Mom was wearing a shimmery green dress that molded to her figure. It was cut quite low in front and though her back was covered, her arms were bare. It was a simple but elegant affair and I felt proud walking behind Mom as the host led us to our table amid admiring glances from both men and women.

The food was exceptionally good and we followed it up with baklava for dessert and Mom insisted that I order ouzo. Mom smiled at both my nervousness and pride when the waiter didn't ask for my ID. She reached out and put her hand over the back of mine.

"You did that well."

That made me feel even better. I was supposed to be making her feel better and here she was making me feel like a man instead. I loved it.

As we ate baklava and sipped ouzo, a very attractive older woman swept into the small dance floor with a flourish to the center of the room.

"Watch this," Mom whispered. "She taught our class a few times. She's a fantastic dancer."

"Milo's is proud to present Lady Alexandra," the host announced as the music started.

Lady Alexandra began to dance, moving slowly. She was wearing a multi-colored top, not much more than a fancy bra actually, above a fine mesh skirt slit to the hip on the left side that barely covered a plain brown bikini bottom. Jewelry and bracelets adorned her fingers, wrists and ankles. By her face, I judged that Lady Alexandra was about fifty but her body looked like that of a much younger woman, and one in extremely good shape at that.

"Doesn't she look wonderful?" Mom said.

"Yeah," I replied and Mom laughed at my obvious appreciation of Lady Alexandra.

"I guess your father doesn't know what he's missing," Mom said as Lady Alexandra undulated across the floor, the trinkets circling her waist tinkling, her stomach a constantly moving canapé of flesh and shadows.

"Let's not tell him," I whispered.

Mom reached out and put her hand on mine again which set my arm a-tingle. "Yes, let's not," she said.

I was aware, even elated, that Mom and I had just become partners in a conspiracy, however minor or innocent.

Lady Alexandra alternated between rapidly shimmying her hips as she spun around the dance floor to slowly undulating her body across it. Catching everyone by surprise, she dropped into an amazingly low dip that exposed her entire, well-muscled left leg before rising up with sharply arched back and breasts thrust skyward, only to launch into a second lunge toward another table. To my delight, this and similar choreographies were repeated many times.

Near the end, Lady Alexandra dropped backwards to the floor and lifted herself with hands and feet enabling a reverse crawl, pushing her breasts up and moving in a way that transformed her belly into a continuous, rippling wave. Every aspect of her body, including her long wavy blonde hair, was employed to suck her audience into the mystery of her world. She was absolutely mesmerizing.

When the dance ended, Mom squeezed my hand which startled me because I hadn't realized until than that she had held it throughout the dance.

"You see what I'm up against?" Mom gasped.

"You could be better," I blurted, then quickly looked away because I knew Mom would be able to see in my eyes why I believed what I had inadvertently said.

Mom squeezed my hand before withdrawing hers. "That's sweet of you to say."

Lady Alexandra received an enthusiastic round of applause and started to leave the dance floor but she stopped when she saw Mom and then walked straight to our table.

"Lisa, so nice to see you."

"Hello Carol," Mom responded.

Lady Alexandra looked at me. No way this woman could be named Carol, I thought.

"This can't be your husband." Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Does he know?"

Mom laughed. "Carol, this is my son, Curtis. Curtis, meet Carol, or Lady Alexandra."

I stood up and extended my hand. "The pleasure is all mine."

"Oh, a gentleman, and so handsome too."

"Yes, he certainly is."

"Is your husband away?"

A troubled expression crossed Mom's face. "No, but I don't think he'll be coming. He's not a fan of Greek food or, apparently, of belly dancing."

"Oh, how sad…for him."

"Yes," Mom said, either not trying or failing to hide her disappointment.

"But surely you're not going to quit? Oh, you can't, you're simply too good to stop now."

"That's what I said," I interjected.

Lady Alexandra smiled at me and quickly looked back at Mom. "You see? You have the best audience you can have, an adoring son. You should dance for him, and then dance for me, right here." Carol swept her hand around in a wide arc.

Mom looked down, color flushing her face. I blushed too.

"Ah, so you've already danced for him." Carol looked at me again, a knowing smile accompanying a pleased expression that regarded me for a longer moment. "I used to dance for my son. I still do, when he comes to town." A wistful look took over her face and she looked at Mom again. "You can't get a more appreciative audience than your son."

I imagined this sexy woman dancing for a handsome Greek Adonis, young but blonde like herself, pushing herself off the floor, undulating her belly and grinding her pelvis in simulated love-making, then pictured Mom doing the same for me.

"You'll encourage your mother, won't you Curtis?"

I nodded earnestly, looking at both Mom and Lady Alexandra, hoping the oily image of Mom's sinewy body was not visible through my eyes.

"There, you see?" Carol placed her long fingers under Mom's chin and raised her head. "You won't disappoint your fans, will you?"

A moist hint of tears had gathered in the corner of Mom's eyes. "No, I guess not.

"Good. You're a very promising dancer. It would be selfish of you to stop now. Wouldn't it Curtis?"

Lady Alexandra didn't look at me but rather held her gaze steadily upon Mom.

"Yes, it would," I affirmed.

"Too right," Carol said. "Listen, come back to see me before you go."

With that, Lady Alexandra swept away and every male eye, including my own, followed her out of the room.

"Quite something, isn't she?" Mom said, dabbing her right eye.

"Yes, and she obviously thinks you're quite something too."

"Oh, she's just being nice."

"I don't think so."

Mom didn't reply and we finished our baklava and ouzo in silence. I grabbed the bill when it came but blanched when I saw it was more than the hundred dollars Dad had given me. Mom saw my consternation and took the bill from my hand.

"This is my treat," she said.

"But Dad gave me a hundred dollars to pay for dinner."

"Then you keep it."

"But Mom…"

"Do as I ask, please."

The waiter directed us to a room in back and knocked. After opening the door and ushering us inside, he left. Lady Alexandra was sitting in front of a mirror removing her make-up. The fine mesh skirt had been removed and all she was wearing was the multi-colored top and plain brown bikini bottom, or panties, really, now that I could see them close up. Her breasts bulged from the sides of the top.

"Oh Lisa." She stood up to greet Mom. "Here, I want you to take some of these costumes home."

"Oh, no. I couldn't."

"Nonsense. It`s best to look the part when you practise."

Lady Alexandra stepped over to a long rack and pulled out three costumes, holding each in turn against Mom.

"Perfect," she said for the first one, then, "Sexy," and "Divine."

"You'll look fabulous in these, won't she Curtis?"

That was the first time she acknowledged my presence. I nodded. Lady Alexandra tossed the costumes on the chair.

"Oh, I have just the thing. Here, try this one."

She pulled a fourth costume off the rack.

"This was my son's favorite. Try it on."

"What?" Mom cried.

"Hold this Curtis," Lady Alexandra said, handing me the skimpy costume.

Lady Alexandra reached around Mom's neck and deftly unhooked her dress, then quickly ran the zipper down Mom's back.

"Carol!" Mom exclaimed.

"Oh, don't worry about Curtis. He doesn't mind, do you, Curtis?"

I shook my head, my gaze quickly surveying Mom's body, increasingly exposed as Carol pushed the dress over Mom's hips and let it fall around her legs in a heap on the floor. My mouth went dry as my gaze fastened on Mom's ample breasts which were barely contained by a thin, half-cupped bra. My peripheral vision caught sight of the thin straps that hooked over Mom's hips, hardly looking strong enough to hold up the two tiny triangles, one in front and another behind, that purported to be panties. Wow!

Lady Alexandra quickly wrapped the semi see-through skirt of the costume around Mom's waist, concealing the wondrous vision of Mom's lower body which was more gorgeous than I had imagined even in my dreams. Lady Alexandra twisted Mom around to face me.

"Isn't she beautiful?"

"Yes," I confirmed, through my constricted throat.

I meant it and Lady Alexandra could see I meant it. She smiled at me with that knowing look in her eyes, and this time, I didn't look away. Mom, who had at first averted her eyes, looked squarely at me.

"Will you help your mother?"

I looked at Mom and nodded, not quite sure what I was agreeing to.

"Would you be your mother's audience, let her dance for you in full costume?"

I nodded more eagerly.

"Of course you would, Lady Alexandra laughed. "What son wouldn't help his mother?"

Lady Alexandra spun Mom around to face her. "Let's get you dressed." She muttered to herself, referencing my father, "He must be blind to ignore such a woman," followed by "Doesn't he know that a woman needs to be appreciated?"

She unwrapped the skirt and threw it onto the chair with the rest of the costumes. Mom stood before me, dressed only in the tiny, triangular panties and the skimpy bra, her eyes cast down but standing behind her, mine were free to roam.

"Pull her dress up, Curtis," she instructed.

I looked at the dress that still piled in a circle around Mom's feet.

"Curtis," Lady Alexandra prompted.

I knelt on the floor behind Mom and started sliding the dress up her legs, following it as it rose only inches in front of my nose. Suddenly, I was looking right at Mom's behind, at the crack between her cheeks extending above the waist band of the tiny panties which barely covered half her bottom, and the lower swells of her buttocks sweeping in to merge with the curve of her waist. Wonderful!

My hands contacted Mom's warm skin as I pulled the dress over her hips and then against the side of her breasts when I pulled it higher. I paused there, unintentionally, as I stood up and Lady Alexandra smiled over Mom's shoulders. She knew I wasn't thinking about Mom the way a son should but, surprisingly, her eyes twinkled encouragement. She took hold of Mom's dress and fit the bodice better around her breasts.

"Be careful with the zipper, Curtis. This is fine dress and we don't want to break it by going too fast, now do we?"

"No ma'am," I agreed.

I fumbled nervously with the zipper, nestling as it was on top of Mom's buttocks. I could sense Lady Alexandra grinning over Mom's shoulder. I pulled the zipper up very slowly, not wanting to draw her wrath and enjoying the smooth expanse of Mom's unblemished back and the tantalizing groove that gave way to the little bumps of her spine. I was disappointed when the zipper finally reached its destination. Lady Alexandra started to reconnect the hook at the neckline but Mom's right foot twisted under and she missed.

"Hold her still," Lady Alexandra said.

Tentatively, I put my hands on Mom's waist. As Lady Alexandra continued to struggle with the clasp—suprisingly for someone who had disconnected it so deftly—my fingers closed tighter around Mom's waist until I was holding her firmly. My hands emphasized the contrast between her narrow waist and the buttocks that flared out behind it. I looked up into Lady Alexandra's waiting, amused eyes.

"I think we're ready now," she said, stepping away from Mom.

I held Mom's waist for a few seconds longer, then reluctantly let go and stepped back myself.

Lady Alexandra put the costumes into a large bag and handed it to me.

"Take these home for your mother and make sure she uses them."

As we left, Lady Alexandra grasped Mom's hand and held her so that she was last out the door. She whispered in Mom's ear but not so quietly that I couldn't hear.

"I loved dancing for my son, Lisa. He brought out the best in me and that made me feel so wonderful inside."

I turned in time to see Mom nod.

We drove home in silence, each consumed with our own thoughts. I didn't dare say anything about what had happened but my head was filled with Mom's surprisingly sexy body and images of her dancing the way Lady Alexandra had…but for me.

Mom was so quiet, I thought she was angry but when I opened the door for her she looked up and smiled. She swung her legs out, allowing the coat to part and expose her legs high above the knee.

"Thank you, sir," Mom said, when I shut the car door. She leaned toward me and stretched up to give me a kiss on the cheek. "I really enjoyed myself tonight. It was a wonderful date."

Later that night, when I was alone in bed, those words rang in my head and, despite my earlier resolve, my hand found my cock as the vision of Mom's supple body filled my mind. My hands encircled Mom's naked waist to hold her firmly in position for my hard cock which bumped into her bare ass and then slipped sideways to nudge between her rubbery cheeks. I started to come.
​

- - - - - - - - - - - - -​

Sunday morning I went to church with my parents which I hadn't done for almost nine months, ever since I turned eighteen and they said I could make my own choice about religion. Dad was pleasantly surprised but Mom was even more pleased, and me, I was confused about my own decision. With the evil thoughts that pervaded my mind and the wicked actions of my hand at night while my head was full of my mother's naked body, you'd think the last place I'd want to be was in the house of God. But here I was sitting next to Mom, my hand on the bench between us, and hers squeezing it while everyone sang hymns.

When we left the church, I held the car door open for Mom and felt strangely guilty when Dad looked at me strangely, as if he knew I was entertaining illicit thoughts about Mom and that I was trying to catch a flash of leg. However, I was mistaken. Mom seemed pleased by my chivalrous action but there was no flash of leg and Dad complimented me for being a gentleman.

At home, I jumped out of the back seat to open the door for Mom, scrambling to get there before she did it for herself, but the rush was unwarranted because she waited patiently for me. Dad had already closed his door and started for the house. This time there was a flash of bare leg, which I'm sure was accidental, but the appearance of bare thigh above Mom's stockings incapacitated my lungs and I held the door open for a good five seconds after she was out of the car.

Inside, Dad had gone straight upstairs to get changed. Mom was waiting for me to help with her coat. She spun out of the sleeves so close that her blouse brushed against me, and said thanks in a low voice that sent a thrill coursing through my body.

I followed Mom into the kitchen and watched her prepare lunch instead of changing out of my good clothes. Like Dad, Mom usually changed as soon as she came home from church so it was little surreal for us both to be in the kitchen, well-dressed and alone. Mom smiled when she saw that I had followed her into the kitchen. Several times she noticed me watching her and each time she smiled again. We didn't speak.

Just before we heard Dad coming downstairs Mom walked toward me from the far side of the kitchen, or I should say, she danced toward me, holding her arms above her head and swaying her hips from side to side, emitting a low chuckle with each twist. She stopped when she heard Dad's footsteps and I started to believe that Mom might actually dance for me as Lady Alexandra had suggested.

Dad was clomping down the stairs when Mom stepped close and stretched up to brush her lips in a light kiss on the edge of my jaw.

"You should go upstairs and get changed," she whispered.

I did as Mom asked, passing Dad as he entered the kitchen.

"There's a sandwich for you on the counter," Mom said.

I heard her follow me up the stairs but I didn't look back. In my room, I changed into a t-shirt and jeans and started back downstairs to get a sandwich for myself but as I passed by Mom's open door I stopped dead in my tracks.

Mom was surveying the costumes Lady Alexandra had given her, all laid out side by side on the bed. Mom had removed her suit jacket and shoes but was still wearing the dressy white blouse and skirt from her suit. She turned and looked at me. I blushed, embarrassed at being caught spying on her, but Mom smiled and motioned for me to join her. She continued to look pensively at the costumes while I waited at her side. I figured she was going to ask my opinion about which one to wear but didn't waste time looking at them: any would do as far as I was concerned.

I was glad Mom was studying the costumes so intently because it allowed me to observe the state of her dress. The white blouse was completely unbuttoned though the back was still tucked into Mom's skirt. It seemed Mom's attention had been caught by the costumes when she was in the middle of getting undressed. I was looking right at Mom's breasts, encased in a bra that was hardly more substantial than the skimpy one she had worn at dinner the night before.

"Which one do you think suits me?"

"All of them," I croaked.

"Don't be nice. Tell me the truth."

"I am," I said defensively.

"Then which one do you think I'd look best in?"

I pointed to the green and gold one.

"Why that one?"

"Because it's like the dress you wore at dinner."

"Oh yes. I love that dress."

Mom picked up the costume and held it in front of her, pressing it to her body which, unfortunately, covered her breasts.

"You like that dress too, don't you?"

"Yes. You look beautiful in it."

Mom flashed me a smile. "Why, thank you Curtis. Should I wear it next time we go out?"

"Next time?"

"Yes, next time. Your father won't take me to Milo's and I'd like to see Carol dance again."

"Sure, the green dress would be nice."

"And you'd also like to see Carol…I mean Lady Alexandra, dance again, wouldn't you?"

My face started to color and I answered quickly so Mom would look away.

"Yes."

"Well, alright then. Next week we'll go to see Lady Alexandra together, and I'll wear the green dress."

I started to leave, thinking Mom was done with me.

"Curtis?"

"Yes," I turned around. "Is your father still eating his lunch?"

"I guess so."

"Hmmmm. Well, since he's busy, tell me what this skirt looks like."

Before I could answer, Mom turned toward me and slid the skirt down to hold it in front of her suit skirt but I had a hard time looking at it because I was staring at her chest. The skimpy bra did little more than lift Mom's breasts into prominence.

"What do you think?" Mom asked, unaware of my predicament.

"I, uh, I…"

"Hmmmm. It is hard to choose, isn't it?"

Mom pushed the green and gold mesh skirt into my hands.

"Hold this for a minute," she said.

And then I was watching, stupefied, as Mom unzipped her skirt and let it slide down her legs. She was standing in front of me in an unbuttoned blouse, skimpy bra, and a pair of panties. I was so stunned, I just stared, open mouthed until Mom prompted me.

"The skirt, Curtis."

My reaction was sluggish. My eyes were glued on the front of Mom's panties and the prominent, swollen-looking mound they covered.

"The skirt, Curtis," Mom repeated, holding out a hand.

Numbly, I handed Mom the skirt and she stepped into it, spun around, frowned, peeled her blouse off, then twirled around again. Mom danced around the room, returned, and twirled around me in a close circle, laughing. She ended with a flourish in front of me, one hand on her hip and the other pushing her hair up the back of her head, laughing softly.

"It works, doesn't it?"

I nodded. Mom dropped her hand and said, "You'd better go downstairs and get a sandwich before your father eats them all."

At the door, Mom called me again.

"Curtis, do you still have a free period on Tuesdays and Thursdays?"

I nodded again because my throat was still too swollen to let words pass. Mom had dropped the skirt and was bending over the costumes on the bed, facing away from me, panties stretched across her ass so tightly I could see the shadow defining the crack between her cheeks and the outline of each buttock. A sharp twinge bashed my cock against my jeans and, realizing I was quite hard, I bent forward slightly to relieve the pain.

Mom couldn't have seen me nod so I answered her before she turned around and caught me gawking. "Yes Mom."

I waited for a response but Mom didn't seem in a hurry to answer. Instead, she fiddled with the costume until it aligned perfectly with the others while the globes of her ass twitched under the thin material of her panties. Finally, Mom answered without looking at me which was good because I was still ogling her behind with an enormous bulge in my pants.

"That's good."

Her response acknowledged that Mom knew I was still there. For the rest of the day I could barely contain my excitement about the fact that she knew I was still there as she bent over the costumes. I had no idea how I was going to make it through Monday and Tuesday morning.
​

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -​

I ran home Tuesday afternoon to a house with drawn drapes and muffled music drifting through the walls. I had become hard on the run home but that sound tightened my pants even more. I almost burst through the back door but stopped to compose myself before entering, dropped my backpack on the kitchen table, and quietly took up a post in the kitchen doorway.

Mom was dancing to a fast song, shimmying rapidly around the living room with arms flailing and body twirling. When the song ended, Mom whooshed to a stop, laughing and panting in the middle of the room.

"You missed a good one," she cried.

Mom was wearing the green and gold costume with gold bracelets on each wrist and both ankles. She had snakelike "tattoos" drawn down the length of her arms and dragon-like forms painted on the outside of her thighs and smaller serpents creeping up the inside.

The next song started and Mom padded barefoot toward me, moving languidly with the music. She pulled me into the middle of the room, dropped my hands, and started dancing around me, near but not touching. I smiled encouragingly and twisted my neck to follow her around as far as I could before snapping my head back to catch her as she danced into view from the other side.

At first, my eyes stayed on Mom's, but as the dance progressed, I forgot myself and let my gaze caress her arms, breasts, belly and legs. I tried to maintain a sense of decorum but soon dispensed with the pretense, especially when Mom swooped nearer and nearer. She didn't actually touch me, but her rushing proximity made me feel as if she had, leaving my whole body tingling with her intoxicating presence.

My cock had begun swelling when I first saw Mom in the costume so I was really hard now. I didn't even fell guilty because no man could remain flaccid in this situation. I regarded the display of my male appreciation as a measure of Mom's skill as a dancer. It was as if it was okay to have a huge hardon when she was dancing because it wasn't for my mother, it was for the dancer, and I felt Mom would understand that and not hold it against me. So I openly devoured Mom's body with enraptured eyes and let the bounty of my feast express itself in my jeans, occasionally pumped by the whirling rake of Mom's eyes across the front of my pants. Rather than feeling sheepish, I felt proud of my ability to support Mom the way Lady Alexandra suggested I should.

It was a long song but I hated to hear it end. Mom whirled to a stop in front of me, breathing harshly. She came closer and I put my arms out, thinking she wanted a hug, but she retained her distance and I let my hands settle on her shoulders. The next song didn't start then as I expected it to; the CD was finished. Mom leaned closer and tilted her head forward until it touched my chest. I waited for her to capture her breath and played with the hair cascading over her shoulders.

After a minute or two, I realized that, with her head tilted forward like that, Mom must be looking right at the bulge in my jeans. In the heat of the dance, I had thought my bulge expressed my support and appreciation of Mom's skill but now I wasn't so sure she would take it that way and discomfort nagged my mind.

Abruptly, Mom pushed herself away and turned toward the CD player, reaching for its remote. A new, very slow song started. Mom turned back and approached me. I held out my arms, thinking she wanted to resume her position, but she stepped between my outstretched hands and pushed me on the chest with flattened palms. I stumbled back, surprised. Mom pushed again, and then again. The back of my legs hit the couch and I fell upon it. Mom laughed and backtracked to the middle of the room. She sank to the floor on her back and remained still for several seconds, then slowly began to move.

Mom barely twitched at first but then her hands and feet, and soon her arms and legs, also acquired motion. She was starting a floor routine, like Lady Alexandra had briefly done in her performance.

Mom arched her back and lifted her behind off the floor. Stretched from head to heels off the carpet, Mom's body began wriggling like a snake. Her belly became a fascinating receptacle of light and shadow and I appreciated just how appealing a woman's pelvis can truly be, soft and round one moment, flat, hollow and edgy the next, spreading into hips that withdrew and then suddenly thrust upward before spreading and dissipating in waning ripples, only to become freshly delineated to do it all over again.

Mom's body was lifting higher and higher from the floor, something which took me a few moments to notice. Another thing which I didn't realize at first was that Mom's feet, initially pointing off to my right, were slowly moving around to point right at me. Soon, I was looking directly between Mom's legs, fully exposed because the mesh panels had fallen to the sides, except for the center one that masked the skimpy panties which I knew were Mom's only cover under the skirt.

My God, the way she moved. Muscled calves and tensed thighs, breasts arched above her rippling tummy, and below the mesh-covered panties blanketed the prominent mound I had so eagerly witnessed when Mom first asked me what I thought of the costume. God, I wished I could see that panty-covered mound now.

Mom threw her body around, swooping low to the right and swinging up and around to the left in a violent, longitudinal quake. Faster and harder she twisted her body until, with a final frantic lunge, she dropped low and stopped.

I stared, waiting for Mom to move or even relax upon the rug, spent and finished, but she did neither. Long seconds passed and then Mom twitched. I leaned forward, my gaze intense. The muscles on Mom's left thigh flickered and the serpent drawn there rippled down the length of her leg. Again, she was still. Then the muscles along Mom's right thigh twitched, exciting the snake there and then, once more, she was still.

I almost cried out in glee when I saw that the central mesh panel had disappeared. I leaned far forward, gawking. Where had it gone? There, it had slipped over the outside of Mom's left leg and now her panties were fully exposed. As I watched, Mom's legs twitched again, and again, first the left, then the right, and then both together, the dancing asps pointing toward their evil home. With each twitch, Mom's legs parted more but after a dozen twitches, they stopped.

Mom's hips rolled in a small oval from side to side. At first, I observed the muscles in Mom's thighs under the serpents as her legs changed position to accommodate the motion of her pelvis but then my gaze shifted onto her panties. That luscious mound described a smaller path perfectly matched to that of the outer appendages. I scrutinized it so closely my head actually jerked back when Mom suddenly thrust her hips up and paused, holding her mound at the apex before allowing it to relax and then sharply thrusting it upward several times in quick succession in the universally recognized motion for making love.

As Mom continued her "dance", my hand was unable to stay away and settled upon the bulge of my appreciation. For all intents and purposes, Mom was air-fucking in front of me, her panties damp and glued to her feminine charms, clearly displaying a groove beneath the swollen mound above.

It wasn't long before I unloaded in my pants. I wanted to escape upstairs after that but the song ended and Mom settled onto the rug. Slowly, her legs closed and she sat up in a fluid motion, drawing her knees up to her chest and tucking her crossed feet close to the bottom of her thighs. She clasped her arms around her legs and leaned her head over her knees.

"What do you think?"

"Awesome," Mom, I replied, pulling my feet up onto the couch and grasping my own knees in an effort to cover up the effect she had upon me.

"I love doing floor work," Mom said.

"You're very good at it," I commented, demonstrating my ability for understatement.

"You think so? I can't tell if I'm stretching up too high, or if my feet are too far apart."

The way Mom looked at me, I could see she expected a response. After all, I was playing the role of audience and critic.

"Um, it looked pretty good to me."

"Really?"

I nodded but Mom didn't seem convinced.

"Can you help me some more on Thursday?"

"Sure."

"Good. I better change and get dinner on before your father comes home."

Mom twisted up into to a standing position, stepped close to me and leaned down to give me a kiss.

"Thanks," she said in a husky whisper before drawing away and casually walking upstairs.

Dad wasn't due for at least an hour so I wondered if Mom knew what had happened to me and was withdrawing early to let me escape without further embarrassment. I looked down into my lap and saw that she couldn't have not noticed my predicament when she leaned over to give me a kiss. I rushed upstairs to my room to clean up, partly horrified that Mom must know what had happened, and partly elated that she knew and wasn't mad.

That night, I filled my pajamas again.

Wednesday afternoon, my jeans and pajamas were neatly piled on my bed but all my other laundry had been put away.
​

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -​

I ran home most of the way on Thursday but caught myself three quarters of the way home. From there on I walked, though at a brisk pace. I didn't want to look out of breath and overly eager. As on Tuesday, Mom was already dancing when I came in. I started toward the center of the room but she shooed me toward the couch. I sat down and surveyed her costume, this time blue and crimson, and we exchanged mutually pleased smiles.

I was convinced that Mom and I had formed a bond wherein it was acceptable for me to watch her the way I was. It didn't matter that she was my mother. She was a dancer, and men were supposed to become aroused by a good-looking woman performing a sexy dance. That is, if she was any good. So, when Mom caught me looking, it didn't matter, I was simply appreciating the well-executed performance of a talented dancer. I let my enthusiasm show. I wanted to flatter her and I couldn't disguise it anyway.

Mom performed several dances, each sexier than the last. Then, she settled back onto the floor and I slouched down on the couch, my hand immediately covering my crotch in eager anticipation but Mom didn't move. Ah, this was so hot. I could hardly wait for her to begin. Abruptly, Mom lifted her head and looked at me. I was caught with my right hand resting, not quite still, on my bulge.

Mom fixed her eyes on mine and said, "Come here."

"What?"

I didn't even have the presence of mind to remove my hand.

"Come here." Mom laid her head back on the rug. "I want you to do something for me."

I got up and walked over to stand beside Mom. "What do you want me to do?"

"Put your feet outside of mine," she said.

I straddled Mom and looked down at her.

"Now, stretch out above me, as if you were going to do push ups."

I did as mom asked.

"Okay. Stay there. I shouldn't go any higher than you."

Mom started 'dancing' beneath me with her eyes closed. I hadn't noticed this when she did the floor routine before but then I couldn't see her face from where I had sat on the couch. I hung my head so I could see Mom's body moving under me and hoped she wouldn't make me stay in this position too long, not because it was tiring, but because the view wasn't nearly as good as from the couch.

Mom gradually worked her routine up until she was moving quite vigorously beneath me. Eventually, her knees knocked against mine, followed soon after by the brush of her thighs. I stretched up on my toes to give Mom more room but that shifted me forward and lower in the front causing Mom's breasts to scrape across my chest. I sucked in my breath and straightened my arms but the middle of my body sagged and Mom's thighs pressed harder against mine. They quickly withdrew but were back several gyrations later.

"That's good," Mom gasped. "That's the right height. Stay there."

None of this made any sense to me, of course, but what did I care? Again and again, Mom pushed her chest up, sometimes accidentally pressing against mine. Just as frequently, or infrequently which would be a better description, her thighs rubbed on mine. Eventually, I started to tire and my mid-section sagged, increasing the frequency and pressure of contact and introducing something new: contact between our mid-sections.

Suddenly, I could have stayed braced upon my arms and feet atop Mom forever, for with every second or third upsurge, Mom's panties knocked against my bulging jeans. Entering the finale for the dance, Mom began thrusting upward in mimicry of the sexual act, no doubt intentionally included by the choreographer for a rousing show. After the shock of the first few bumps and rubs, I tentatively responded in kind, at first by pure reaction and then hoping she either wouldn't notice in the heat of the dance or would think I was simply returning to my proper position.

I thought I would only get a few rubs against Mom's thrusts but when she kept going I realized this was a longer piece of music than the one on Tuesday. I tried, then, to withdraw because I was really close to coming and knew unloading in my jeans above Mom would be a disaster.​