Jim loved his new Galaxy phone, a gift from his mom, Krysten, on his eighteenth birthday months earlier. While he sat at the table, waiting for his mother to finish breakfast, he unfolded his sleek new toy and activated the improved camera. Pretending to scroll absentmindedly, he ogled his mother, displayed on his ten-inch screen, effortlessly gliding around the kitchen.

Her worn, tattered robe hugged her curves, falling just to her knees, revealing her shapely calves. Working in sales, she was on her feet much of the day, ensuring she stayed fit. When she filled their plates and turned to face him, he closed his phone and set it on the table, mindful of his mother’s rule against surfing while they ate.

She settled into her seat, her warm smile uplifting his mood as usual, “It’s your favorite, Jim. I hope you like it,” she said, her expression warm and sincere.

“Smells wonderful, Mom,” he said, slicing off a chunk of his omelet with his fork and stabbing it. With each bite, his eyes lingered on her beauty. Her silky, straight, black hair swayed inward, covering her high cheekbones when she leaned forward for a bite. Her bangs draped over her forehead, framing her wide, brown eyes that expressed warmth and caring.

Catching him staring at her, the corners of her full lips curved upward into a radiant smile, revealing her perfectly white teeth. “Don’t you like it?” she asked, nodding to his plate.

“It’s delicious, as always,” he answered, savoring another bite. “My mind drifted off, thinking about the new material I’m covering today.”

His mother smiled, her expression prideful, “I’m proud of you for taking on the apprenticeship. You seem so happy with your choice, and that’s what matters. Remember, we have enough money for you to attend college if you decide you want to go that route in the future.”

“No need to, Mom,” he replied, his smile widening as their eyes met. “They informed me last week they want to keep me on and offered to enroll me in online classes to meet any work requirements. They’re keeping my hours shortened, allowing me time to study and still learn the trade on the job.”

“That’s wonderful!” his mother exclaimed, her face lighting up with joy. “That means you’ll be able to remain at home until you’re full-time and save enough money to go out on your own.”

“Exactly,” he replied. “Unless you kick me out, I could be here for a few more years.”

Her warm expression and sexy smirk sent a chill down his spine as she assured him, “You can stay here as long as you want. I’ll never ask you to leave.”

“Thanks, Mom,” he replied, finishing his plate. He grinned inwardly, knowing that he’d never move out, as he was deeply in love with his mother and had been for over a year. After their divorce ten years earlier, he and his mother had grown closer, bonding over school projects, weekend getaways, and quiet evenings watching TV or reading.

She had guided him through his awkward dating years, offering advice and reassurance, until his confidence was strong enough to experience several relationships with girls.

In the past, when she asked him why he hadn’t gone out on any dates since graduation, he simply replied, “Mom, I don’t want any distractions from my work. It’s important to me to succeed, and the time spent in a relationship would be a little too much. There’ll be plenty of time for that after I’m better situated at work.”

Clearing her throat, she knocked him out of his thoughts and reminded him, “It’s getting near nine. Shouldn’t you get going so you’re not late?”

“Yeah, thanks, Mom,” he replied, wolfing down the rest of his plate before rushing to his room to brush his teeth. On his way out, he called over his shoulder, “See you later, Mom. I’ll be making stroganoff tonight.”

“Sounds good,” she answered while cleaning the kitchen.

Jim arrived home a little after four, heading directly to his room to catch up on his coursework. An hour later, he showered, threw on his sweats, and headed to the kitchen to prepare the evening’s meal.

Since his mother’s hours had switched to ten-to-six, they had settled on a routine, her handling breakfast and him making the evening meals. On the weekends, they shared the cooking duties, giving her time to walk him through any new dishes for the future.

He’d come to enjoy cooking dinner each weeknight, finding satisfaction in the routine. His true reward was seeing his mother’s appreciative smile when she arrived home to a meal ready to eat. Even on nights when he wasn’t pleased with the quality of his cooking, she never let on and always praised him for his efforts.

She always ate first before showering and changing into her sweats to join her son in the living room for the evening. Hearing the garage door open, he plated up the servings and set them on the already prepared table, complete with two glasses of red wine that she preferred with pasta.

“Smells wonderful, Jim!” his mother exclaimed, settling into her chair and taking a sip of her wine. “Nice pairing. Everything is perfect. Thanks so much,” she complimented him with a wide smile.

“It was easy,” Jim replied confidently. “I didn’t even need your instructions this time, managing it all from memory. How’d it go at work today?” he asked.

After a few bites, she exhaled and responded, “Pretty good, but our new regional sales manager, Michael, has decided to use our office for his base of operations. Now, everyone’s on edge.”

“Do you even see him that much, considering you’re out with clients most of the day,” he asked.

“Too often, for my liking,” she admitted with a sigh. “We have meetings and office work to do, so it’s difficult to avoid him. He has a bit of a misogynistic streak, if you know what I mean.”

“Serious?” Jim asked, raising his eyebrows. “What makes you say that? Has he said anything to you?”

“He did, but not as harshly as with some of my colleagues,” she replied. “He immediately launched a campaign pushing for everyone to dress more professionally to better represent our clients. One of the younger men took the brunt of his criticism for not wearing a tie.”

She paused, making eye contact with her son, and continued, “When he passed behind me on the way to his office, he stopped and said, ‘Lose the panty line, Krysten.’ Fortunately, he kept walking and didn’t see me blushing from embarrassment.”

“That’s really out of line, Mom,” he said, his voice tight with anger. “Isn’t there someone you can talk to about his inappropriate behavior, maybe HR?”

She waved off his worries, “It was nothing,” she said, dismissing his concerns. “He’s just looking out after me, and honestly, he might have a point.”

Rising out of her chair, she walked around the table, stood beside him, and turned around, displaying her backside. “What do you think? Was he right?”

Not believing his luck, his mom stepped in front of him, asking him to check out her ass. His eyes roamed up and down her tight sheath dress, no longer having to guard his illicit staring. His gaze lingered on her shapely calves before traveling up to her elegantly curvy derriere, finally locating the visible, protruding waistband of her cheeky briefs.

“Well?” she asked, her voice impatient, mixed with concern. “Is it that noticeable?”

He paused to think of a nice way to describe her perfect, rounded ass, finally replying, “Mom, it’s definitely obvious because of the way your...” Grasping for a word for a few seconds, he continued, “Bottom sticks out.”

“My bottom? What are you, twelve?” she asked with a slight giggle.

“Okay, your butt. Your dress stretches around it and is very tight,” he stammered.

“Are you suggesting that your mother has a fat ass?” she teased, her tone mischievous.

“No, not at all,” he quickly replied. “I’m just saying the line is visible. A larger-sized dress might be better to wear, especially around your new boss, Michael.”

She turned, faced him, and smiled, seeing his blushing face from checking out her ass. “Thanks for helping. I’ll check my wardrobe for loose dresses.” While she walked away, his eyes were glued to her bouncing, rounded ass.

The next evening, when she arrived home, he noticed her wearing a similar dress, and while they ate, he asked, “Did Michael mention anything to you today?”

Her brows rose, surprised his mind was still on the previous day’s conversation. Thinking of how she could use this to her benefit, she answered, “No, it was pretty normal today, but I’ll let you know if anything else comes up. Okay?”

“Sure, Mom. I just want to help and hate seeing someone taking advantage of you,” he stated, voicing his concern.

She smiled, her mind spinning with thoughts of future interactions. Noticing the sheen of perspiration on his forehead, she tilted her head and asked, “Why are you wearing those heavy sweats when the weather is turning so hot? The robe I bought you is much thinner and would be much more comfortable.”

He wiped his brow, sighed, and replied, “The hot weather isn’t making things any easier, plus toiling over the stove doesn’t help. But changing to a robe so early in the evening? While cooking? It doesn’t seem appropriate.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little hypocritical?” she asked, a smirk forming. “You do realize I wear one every morning while preparing your breakfast, right?”

“I suppose I never thought about it, but you’re right. Thanks for the suggestion,” he replied.

The next morning, as Krysten dressed for work, she pulled out the sheath dress that showed her panty line. After removing her briefs, she tossed them onto the bed and slid the tight dress onto her body. Swiveling in front of her mirror, she smiled, seeing her smooth, rounded ass fill out the dress, absent the telltale sign of panties.

That evening, they were halfway through eating when Jim paused mid-bite and remarked, “Mom, you’re wearing the same dress that we decided was too tight to wear at the office. Didn’t you have anything else to wear?”

She smiled, having caught him in her perfectly planned trap. “I solved the problem I encountered previously, but I suppose I should mention another incident that occurred today.”

His expression shifted, his brows furrowing, as he asked, “What happened? Did Michael say something else to you?”

“No, but I think he may have touched me inappropriately,” she answered, her voice softening.

“Where’d he touch you?” he asked, his tone firm.

“It’d be better if I show you because I’m not sure whether it was accidental or not. Let’s finish dinner first, then I’ll demonstrate,” she explained.

His pace quickened, finishing his plate in record time, eager to discover what transpired between his mom and her boss. Standing, he gathered up their plates and hauled them to the sink. When he turned around, his mother stood beside the table.

She pointed to the floor behind her and off to the side, explaining, “Stand here, as it’s where Michael was when he walked to his office and brushed past me on my right side. Walk by me and I’ll tell you what I felt.”

When he was in place, he gazed at her backside and immediately noticed the absence of a panty line. His prick stirred, realizing the reason for the material stretched seamlessly over her round ass was the absence of panties.

“Walk by me and touch me on my bottom, as you would call it,” she instructed, giggling.

When he neared her, his hand reached out and cupped her nearest butt cheek. He felt her tense as his fingers lightly dug into her flesh. “Like this, Mom?” he asked, gently squeezing her soft ass.

She hesitated, inhaling deeply while savoring the warmth of his strong hand, his fingers sinking into her soft flesh. A few lingering moments passed before she spoke, her voice soft and thoughtful. “Not quite so aggressive. It might have been nothing more than the back of his hand grazing me. Try that.”

Reluctantly releasing her, he flipped his hand over and brushed it across the smooth fabric. “Is this what you felt?”

“Yes, so I guess it was just an accident. No need to be upset over a simple bump,” she surmised, wishing she’d waited longer before allowing him to release her ass.

“Maybe, or it might have been a test to see how you’d react. You aren’t wearing any panties, Mom. Are you sure that’s a good idea when working around a predator like your boss?” he asked.

“Well, it was the only way I could eliminate the panty line,” she replied.

“I think it’d be best if you start wearing skirts and blouses. They won’t hug your curves as much,” he said.

“My curves?” she asked, giggling. “Are they bad curves or good?”

He blushed and replied, “You know what I mean, Mom. No need to embarrass me. I’m just trying to help.”

“Fine, I’ll start wearing skirts starting tomorrow,” she said, ending the conversation and walking to her room.

The next evening, as his mother walked through the door, Jim smiled, seeing his mother elegantly adorned in a nice blouse and a green A-line skirt which hovered just below her knees. After a light hug, he greeted her, “Hi Mom, dinner is just about ready. Nice outfit, by the way.”

She nodded, inhaled deeply, and remarked, “Thanks, Jim. I’m glad you like it. The pork chops smell wonderful. Can’t wait to dig in.”

She settled into her chair, and soon after, Jim served their meal and joined her. Their lively conversation made the meal fly by, and when nearly finished, he leaned back and asked, “Michael didn’t brush against you again today, did he?”

“No, but when he passed by me, he leaned in close and commented, ‘We’re not running a nursing home here, Krysten. Shorten your skirt.’”

She braced herself for Jim to launch into another criticism of her boss, but instead, he nodded thoughtfully and agreed, “He’s probably right about that, Mom. Your skirt is a little outdated.”

She raised an eyebrow, surprised by his supportive acknowledgment, and asked, “Well then, I’ll shop for some during my lunch break tomorrow. Want to tag along and help me pick out something more modern?”

Passages of some of his favorite stories flashed before him, of mothers and sons making love in a store’s dressing room. As much as he loved the thought of re-enacting those fantasies, her expression displayed a certain wariness, as if she could read his perverted mind.

Deciding to play it cool, he answered, “A grown man shopping with his mother? I don’t think so, as most sons would consider it to be downright embarrassing. I think I’ll pass, but thanks for the opportunity to completely humiliate myself.”

She giggled, shook her head, and replied, “Fine. Fine. I wouldn’t dream of putting you through such an ordeal.”

She rose and walked around to the side, standing three feet away from him. Reaching down and gripping the sides of her skirt, she asked, “Since you won’t shop with me, can you tell me how short I should go?” She pulled her hemline up several inches.

His eyes widened, drinking in his mother’s exposed, shapely legs. He stammered, “I think you’d want it to be the same as your co-workers, to not look out of place.”

She lifted her skirt another six inches, displaying half of her creamy-white, shapely thighs. “This is close to what most of them wear, but some of the sluttier girls go higher.”

Emphasizing her point, she lifted her hem until it was four inches below her crotch. Jim was thankful his lap remained concealed underneath the table, as his erect prick peeked out of his robe. He involuntarily gasped, her luscious bare thighs so close to him that he could reach out and feel them, but somehow, he found the strength to refrain himself.

Unable to think of anything that wouldn’t be construed as inappropriate, he exhaled when she lowered her skirt.

She mused, “Guess I’ll stick to what most of them wear. Do you think I should work on my tan on the weekends? My legs look almost ghost-like, so white.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mom,” he consoled her. “A lot of guys don’t mind paler-looking legs. There’s almost like an appealing, porcelain glow to them.”

“Interesting,” she murmured, the corners of her lips curling into a mischievous grin. Her gaze lingered on him, teasingly, and asked, “So, what do you prefer? Tanned or fair?”

Heat rushed to his face, betraying him instantly. And from the glint in her eyes, he knew that she already had her answer.

“Never mind,” she said, her smile wide, turning and walking to her room. He sat and waited until his cock returned to normal before cleaning the kitchen.

The following Monday, Jim toiled in the kitchen preparing spaghetti, his mind occupied with what his mother would be wearing. When he heard the door open, he met her in the front room, his eyes immediately drawn to her outfit. Her sapphire-blue, pleated skirt flared gracefully, the short hemline showing off her shapely legs in a way that made his heart skip.

“Great choice, Mom,” he said with an approving smile. “Let’s eat, and you can tell me how your day went.”

While they ate, he noticed the top two buttons of her blouse were left undone, offering a subtle glimpse of lace at the edge of her bra. The deep blue color matched her skirt, and he wondered if she had purposely bought both to coordinate her look.

Through their meal, Krysten stole glances at her handsome son, pondering her next move. Partway through the meal, his arm inadvertently shoved his napkin off the table. When he leaned over to retrieve it, he paused, taking in his mother’s exposed legs.

When he rose, she noticed his flushed face, and it dawned on her that he was checking her out. Suddenly, an idea formed in her mind, but she decided to wait a couple of days to spring it on him.

Wednesday evening, near the end of their meal, Krysten mentioned, “Jim, something came up at work today that I could use your help on. Michael touched my legs, and I’m not sure if it was accidental or not.”

“That’s really out of line, Mom. Did you tell him that it was inappropriate?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.

“No, I didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable. It might have been nothing. I can show you how it happened, and then you can tell me what you think,” she offered.

“Sure, Mom. Love to help you,” he quickly replied, his heart beating faster with the prospect of touching her legs.

Krysten smiled, rose, and stood beside him. “Michael was sitting at his desk, much like you are right now, and called me in to look at a document on his screen,” she explained. “When I leaned over to read it, either Michael or I bumped his pen, and it rolled off the table.”

Jim sighed, turned to his mother, and said, “Mom, that’s the oldest trick in the book. You should have just backed up out of the way. Don’t tell me that he took advantage of you and acted like he was picking up the pen when he accidentally bumped against your legs.”

“It seemed harmless at the time,” she replied. She picked up his knife and dropped it on the floor a couple of feet away from her shoe, furthest away from him. “That’s about where it rolled to. His arm went between my legs to retrieve it. Try it and I’ll guide you through his actions.”

His hand trembled as he reached between her calves, his forearm bumping against the back of her nearest leg.

“That’s how he started,” she said. “When he stretched his arm out, his arm rubbed against both of my legs. Try it.”

As he reached further, his upper arm slid up her leg until it rested against her thigh while his forearm connected with the calf of her far leg. When his fingers felt the knife, he said, “Is this how it went?” he asked, his voice shaky. The heat of her thigh radiated through his biceps, and when he felt her muscles tense, his prick jerked in response.

Her breath quickened, feeling her son’s arm press against her smooth, sensitive thigh. Fearing he would pull back, she replied, “That’s pretty close, although he fumbled around a bit as if having trouble picking it up. I felt his arm move up and down before he finally retrieved it and returned it to the desk.”

Jim’s smile widened as he stroked her legs with his arm under the pretense of repeating Michael’s actions. After a minute of blissfulness, he leaned up, pulling his arm back, raising it even higher, and rubbing it across her upper thigh, resulting in a gasp from his mother.

After placing his knife on the table, he asked, “Why didn’t you step away from him when you felt his arm go between your legs?”

“I thought he’d be faster, and if I moved, his arm might have made more contact,” she explained. Sighing, she continued, “Honestly, I think I just froze and didn’t want to risk making a scene.”

“I understand, Mom. From now on, when he asks you to look at something, stand with your legs together so there’s no gap between them,” he instructed.

She placed her feet together, pressed her legs together, and dropped the knife again. “Okay, try it again and see if this will work.”

He reached over, and when he tried to pry his finger between her legs, her muscles tightened, stopping his progress. Lowering his arm, he grabbed the knife, his arm rubbing across the backs of her legs. When he rose, he said, “Much better, Mom. That should stop him cold in the future.”

“Thanks, Jim,” she said, leaning over and pecking him on the cheek.

Friday evening, while they watched a sitcom, she asked, “Jim, how about if we check out the city gardens tomorrow and then dine out? And if you don’t mind, I’d like to continue wearing skirts to get a little sun on my legs.”

“Sounds great, Mom. The lilies should be in full bloom,” he said, his broad smile revealing the excitement he felt from the chance to admire her long, beautiful legs in the sunlight.

After spending a wonderful weekend with his mother, he eagerly prepared one of her favorite meals on Monday.

When she arrived and smelled the aromas of the meal, her broad smile and hug rewarded him for his thoughtfulness. While they ate, Jim dealt with his conflicting emotions. He hated the thought of her boss, Michael, making advances on his mother, but loved the fact that it enabled him to re-enact their interactions, giving him the excuse to connect closer to her.

As if reading his mind, Krysten brought up another incident. “Jim, I had an intriguing conversation with Michael today. From my personnel file, he knows I’m single, and he came right out and asked me if I was dating anyone. From his expression, I could tell his intentions were more than casual curiosity. It took me by surprise, and not wanting to encourage him, I lied and told him I was in a relationship.”

“Smart thinking, Mom. But honestly, would it really be so bad if you dated him?” he asked, instantly regretting it. He hated himself for even suggesting it, fearing she might actually consider it.

“He’s married, Jim. I guess I never explained that to you, but he’s well-known for having affairs,” she replied.

He exhaled in relief, but the comfort was fleeting. His unease crept back as he realized Michael was making advances on his mother. “You’ll have to come up with a story about who you’re seeing to throw him off, though,” he warned her.

She smiled and replied, “I’ve thought about that and have an idea. Join me for lunch tomorrow. Most of the office staff eat at the food cart plaza outside our building. I’ll wait for you by the Thai cart.”

“Okay, but I don’t get it. Do you want me to talk to Michael? I can tell him to quit bothering you if that’s what you want,” he stated, hoping to get the chance to thwart Michael’s advances.

She giggled and replied, “No, I don’t want you confronting him. He has the power to reassign my clients to someone else. I just need you to play the part of my boyfriend, to prove to him that I’m dating someone. I don’t think he believed me, so what better way to convince than by showing him?”

“I don’t know, Mom. It might seem more believable if someone your age went with you. He might suspect something’s fishy,” he argued, hoping she wouldn’t reconsider.

“Nonsense,” she scoffed. “The other women are bragging all the time about hooking up with younger men. You’ll fit right in. Please?” she begged, her cute, pouty face melting his heart.

“Alright, fine. The food is bound to be better than the vending machines anyway,” he relented and smiled slightly, pleased with the outcome, but wary of her plan.

The next day, he showed up promptly and joined his mother, noticing immediately the telltale sign that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her blouse wasn’t tight, but when she walked to her favorite food cart, her breasts jiggled and pressed against the thin material.

With their trays filled, they selected a table in the middle of the plaza and began eating. After a few bites, Jim asked, “Mom, when did you stop wearing a bra? That’s probably one of the reasons Michael’s interest in you has increased.”

She blushed, realizing her son had taken notice of her bouncing breasts, and answered, “Michael suggested a few days ago that I should up my appeal. Before I return home each day, I hit the restroom and put it back on because I thought it’d embarrass you.”

“That seems a little over the top. Don’t you feel he’s taking advantage of your sexual appeal to boost business?” he asked, his eyes darting between her top and her face.

She smiled and replied, “Honestly, our product can’t sell itself. Without a little persuasion, buyers would go somewhere else. It’s not that uncommon in sales.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he sighed and relented. “Still, I’d like you to keep dressing the same way at work and home, so I can continue helping you.”

A chill went down her spine with her son’s assertiveness. Her plan was working perfectly. Softly, she replied, “Of course, dear. I really appreciate all you’re doing.”

After a few bites, Jim asked, “Is Michael here, Mom?” He looked around the courtyard, searching for any man wearing a high-end suit, such as what a manager might wear.

She scanned the crowd, and her eye caught a cute, young woman in a mini-skirt ordering at a cart. She stood and said, “He’s not, but I do see someone in our office that he’s flirted with. I’ll talk to her and mention you’re my boyfriend.”

Before he could argue, she walked away, toward the unsuspecting woman. As she approached, she smiled and greeted her in a friendly tone, “Excuse me, miss. I just wanted to tell you that your skirt is absolutely stunning. It really showcases your long, beautiful legs.”

The woman, startled by an unexpected compliment from a stranger, blushed and nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Her gaze drank in Krysten’s shapely legs before drifting upward, pausing at her blouse where the subtle outline beneath suggested she had chosen not to wear a bra.

When her eyes met Krysten’s, she couldn’t help but admire the effortless confidence she carried in her sexuality. Returning her smile, she replied, “Well, thank you, but before you continue, I should mention I’m not gay.”

Krysten giggled and replied, “Me neither.” She gestured toward their table and nodded in Jim’s direction. “That’s my boyfriend, the man in the blue shirt. Funny enough, he mentioned how sexy you looked. I just wanted to let you know you’re appreciated by a man.”

The woman glanced at Jim, then back at Krysten, and remarked, “Wow, he’s quite the hunk. Thanks for telling me. If you ever tire of him, let me know, as I’d love the chance to impress him and show him just how sexy I can be.”

“Not a chance,” Krysten replied, laughing. “I’m not letting him go, but if you want to make him happy, wave to him. He loves it when a pretty woman notices him.”

The cute, young woman smiled and waved at Jim. When he returned her gesture, Krysten said, “That’ll make his day. Nice talking to you.”

With a playful strut, she made her way back and slid into her seat across from her son, her mischievous grin still intact. Meanwhile, the woman, balancing her plate of food, disappeared into the office building behind them.

Jim anxiously asked, “So, how’d it go?”

“Not so good,” Krysten answered, exaggerating a sorrowful expression. “She was adamant in believing that you’re my son and not my boyfriend. No matter what, I couldn’t convince her otherwise.”

“I warned you, Mom. Although you look a lot younger than your age, people are still going to assume I’m your son,” he said, his expression clouding with disappointment.

She paused, tilting her head in thought, before saying, “Don’t turn around and look, but she’s watching us, probably trying to ensure she was correct in assuming you’re my son.”

After a few seconds, she reached over, held his hand, and murmured, “If you kiss me, it’ll convince her that you’re my boyfriend.”

He froze, uncertain if she was serious, but when she leaned in closer, he pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek before pulling back, her perfume lingering softly in his senses.

With a hint of frustration, she sighed and scoffed, “Great, now she’s going to know for sure you’re my son. Is that how you’d kiss your girlfriend?”

He leaned in, his heart racing as their lips met in a tender, electrifying kiss. A wave of warmth and excitement coursed through their bodies, igniting every nerve. Their mouths moved together in perfect harmony, breaths mingling softly.